


Don't Lose Your Head

by PeakyFookinBlinders (Sherlocked729)



Series: Under Pressure [2]
Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018)
Genre: 1975, AU where Mary doesn't exist haha, Anxiety, Arguing, Blackouts, Blood and Violence, Disordered Eating, Fluff, Gen, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, Insomnia, Living That Ridge Farm Life, M/M, Multi, Nightmares, Paul Prenter Is His Own Trigger Warning, Referenced Suicide Attempt, Self-Esteem Issues, Tim Staffell Is Not An Asshole In This, Unhealthy Relationships, feelings of worthlessness, reference to past homophobia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:28:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 35,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25150114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sherlocked729/pseuds/PeakyFookinBlinders
Summary: Sequel to Fight From The Inside. The guys are living on Ridge Farm now in 1975 and Paul is living with them, much to Roger's dismay. Paul has already won Freddie over, much to John's own dismay. Roger and Paul naturally are butting heads, and no one is getting much work done on Night At The Opera with all the conflict. Can they put aside their differences or will Roger call it quits before the album is finished?
Relationships: Brian May & John Deacon & Freddie Mercury, Brian May/Roger Taylor, Brian May/Roger Taylor/John Deacon, Freddie Mercury/Paul Prenter, John Deacon/Roger Taylor, Roger Taylor & Tim Staffell
Series: Under Pressure [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1818076
Comments: 34
Kudos: 26





	1. losing it

**Author's Note:**

> This is the sequel to Fight From The Inside, my other Maylor fic. I'm taking some creative liberties with this story, obviously. I may include some scenes from the movie, but I'm also changing some things up as well. 
> 
> Comments are totally appreciated and loved! They also help me to write chapters faster, which is always a good thing ;) Hope you guys like!

**. . .**

  
After they got a few albums under their belt, the men of Queen were feeling the pressure to record yet another album, but they all agreed they were tired of the attention that each new album brought them. By 1975, they wanted to get away from the city to record their next record and just _be_ with each other.

This next album had to be big.

Really big.

They hadn’t exactly made a lot of money from their first few records, and it was costing thousands of pounds to put them out in the first place.

For the first couple months after they starting playing venues, Roger and Tim hung out as friends, but it soon became less and less. It wasn’t because of a deteriorating friendship, but because Queen was starting to really hit it big, and they spent most of their time either practicing or recording albums. The time that the band did have to themselves were mostly spent just hanging out and watching telly or going to clubs and pubs.

Now, they were at Ridge Farm living and working in a barn, and Roger was trying to be patient with Paul, and refrain from knocking his teeth in.

“All I’m saying is that you sound off, Roger,” Paul shrugged, smugness laced in his voice.

Roger looked at him in disbelief and looked over at Brian. “ _Am_ I off?” He looked at the guitarist who shook his head and cast a skeptical look in Paul’s direction.

“No, I don’t think you are, Rog.”

Then he looked over at Freddie who was sharing glances with Paul and then looked at Roger skeptically. “Maybe by a teeny fraction of a second, darling.”

“You’re joking!” Roger felt like knocking his whole drum kit over. They had been practicing for hours and he felt like they’d accomplished nothing.

It had been this way since they had arrived a couple days ago; practicing all day long, being criticized constantly by Paul Prenter, and Freddie always, _always_ agreeing with him. Roger was already getting sick of it, but he took a deep breath, trying to relax.

“Let’s take a break, yeah?” John suggested, setting his bass down.

“That sounds like a good idea, Deaky,” Brian agreed, setting his guitar down and watched Freddie and Paul move into the other room where the sound mixing board was. The other man looked over at Roger. “All right, love?”

Roger ran his hands over his face before he stood up and grabbed his cigarettes. “Yeah,” he answered shortly. “I need a smoke.” He walked out of the building, just needing fresh air and to be as far away from Paul as possible.

Brian followed him out while John headed to the kitchen to make them tea. He walked over to where Roger was, exhaling smoke as a cigarette dangled between his fingers. “Hey.”

“Hey yourself,” Roger answered back, but instantly regretted it, and he knew Brian could tell as well from the look on his face.

“I know you don’t mean that. It’s not me you’re upset at, Rog. I know that you and Paul have some animosity, but… he’s Freddie’s partner and I think we should give him a chance. We won’t be getting rid of him as easily as Tim, and even _that_ was difficult.”

Roger looked over at him, his brows creased. “This guy is driving me mad,” he shook his head before turning to face him. “Since he and Fred hooked up, they’ve done nothing but fuck each other and criticize me! Every time I look at Paul, I want to smash his face in.”

The remark took Brian by surprise; Roger hadn’t exactly told him so bluntly how badly he wanted to hurt someone. Roger either just blacked out and did it, or he would walk away. Brian put his hands on his boyfriends’ shoulders before he leaned down and kissed his neck.

“It’ll be all right,” he promised softly. “Freddie loves him, so… we need to respect that, and let them be.”

Roger took another drag from his cigarette. “Even if he’s a fucking prick? How did we go from Tim to this guy? It feels like there’s something in our contract that says we have to have an ignorant arsehole living with us.”

Brian gave a weak smile. “I know, love. I’m sorry that their hostility keeps getting directed towards you, but we haven’t known him all that long. Freddie loves him, and we should just… let things be.”

Roger scoffed before he took a last drag and threw his cigarette into the grass, turning to face him. “I want to fucking murder him, Brian! He gets on my nerves.”

“I get it, Rog. You two don’t get along, but… he’s not like Tim was. He isn’t against us. You seem to be the only person he really has a problem with.”

Roger looked like he had more fight in him, but he was holding it down inside of him. “Well I’m going to fucking kill him the next time he makes a jab at me.”

Brian wrapped his arms around Roger and held him tightly. “Try and refrain from killing him until after this album is finished, yeah? We need Freddie still,” he looked over at the drummer who gave a small nod. “Do you need me to get a hold of Ollie? Maybe talking to him would help.”

He thought about it, but then shook his head. “I don’t want to make him come all the way out here. I’m fine, Bri. I’ll just… deal with it.”

The guitarist looked a bit worried but nodded. “Are you doing all right otherwise?”

Roger nodded, running his hands through his hair. “Yeah, just a bit tired.”

His sleep had been disturbed something of late; his anxiety over living in a different place had hit an all time high, plus the stress of trying to avoid Paul, on top of that, the anxiety of making another album.

All of these things piled on was the trifecta of insomnia for Roger. When he was able to sleep, it was only for a few hours. Perhaps a meeting with Ollie was overdue, but the drummer really didn’t want to put the man out by making him travel all the way here from London; it was still almost a 4 hour train ride.

Brian searched his boyfriend’s tired eyes. “Look, it doesn’t matter what Paul says to you. If he says something contradictory to me, then just ignore him. Chances are that Freddie’s so wrapped up in him to disagree with him. Just listen to whatever John and I say, yeah?”

Roger nodded, taking a deep breath before he let it out and then lit another cigarette. Even just thinking about Paul was enough to set him off.

Brian’s concerned eyes didn’t go away though as he watched him light another one. “I know this has been a change for you, going from the city into the country, everything else. I’m worried about you, Rog. Every time I turn over during the night, you’re still awake somewhere else.”

“I don’t want to keep you up with my tossing and turning,” the drummer explained, shrugging as if it wasn’t a big deal.

The older man gave a loving smile. “I know, and it’s a very romantic gesture but I’d prefer if you tossed and turned next to me than walk the house at night because you can’t sleep.”

“Why? You can’t help me.”

Brian’s smile faded a bit at the tone of his voice. “Roger…”

“What?” Roger exhaled smoke. “It’s true! All I would do is just keep _you_ up so you can’t sleep either!”

Brian gave a helpless sigh and scratched at his brow distractedly. “What do you even do all night? You don’t even come to bed again, so I know that you’re not sleeping. You just stay up all night out there, alone.”

Roger took another drag as he glanced over at him. “I make some tea, write music sometimes, watch telly, call Tim.”

_Tim._

Brian raised an eyebrow now. “You call Tim? You’re calling Tim at two in the morning?”

“No,” Roger corrected. “I call him around four, usually.”

Brian rolled his eyes and sighed heavily. “He doesn’t mind you calling him so early? What do you two even talk about?”

Roger could sense the jealousy in Brian’s voice now, and it almost broke his heart. He swallowed hard, regretting having told the other man about his late night calls to their former bassist. “I don’t know… just things.”

He was afraid to look at the guitarist, unsure he wanted to see the betrayal that was no doubt forming in his eyes.

Brian wet his lips, attempting to keep calm. “Is he still being kind to you, Rog?”

“Yeah, he is,” the drummer gave a nod, taking another drag before he rested it between his fingers. He forced himself to finally meet Brian’s eyes now and felt his blood turn cold. “It’s really not a big deal, Brian. I love you, I don’t love him.”

Tim was straight anyway, so Roger couldn’t see why Brian should even be jealous right now.

“I know,” but the tone said otherwise. “It’s not the point though. I know you’re not cheating on me with him or anything, love. It’s the fact that _he_ can help you and I can’t. It’s… it’s frustrating.”

Roger’s brows creased. “He’s not really… helping me like you think. If he were helping me, don’t you think I’d be able to come back to bed? He’s just…” he sighed, frustrated that he couldn’t put the action into words right away. “He’s helping to kill time for me until you wake up.”

“I can help kill time for you too.”

Roger put his cigarette out on the ground and gave a heavy sigh. “I want you to at least get some sleep, Bri, even if I can’t. There’s no point in both of us not sleeping. One of us should at least be able to function.”

Worry touched the guitarist’s eyes again now, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “All right, forget about Tim… the point here is that _you’re_ not functioning, and that concerns me. You’re not sleeping, you’re barely eating, you’re losing weight again. You need to eat, Roger.”

The blonde suddenly remembered one of the things that Paul had said to him last week.

_“You’re getting a bit lumpy, Rog, aren’t ya?”_

It had been a mere flash of a comment to Roger, but it hit him harder than he thought it would. He stayed away from breakfast, had some cheese on toast for lunch, and then barely had a dinner.

“Fine, I’ll eat some more,” Roger shrugged again. “Stop worrying about me. I’m all right.”

The tone of his voice told Brian otherwise, but he decided to let it go this time; he had to pick and choose his battles with Roger or else neither side would come out a winner. They were in the middle of nowhere for God knew how long, and the best thing was for everyone to get along.

Roger stormed away from him and had gotten between his drums again. Through the window of the recording window, he could see Paul and Freddie’s shadows making out near the back of the room. He clenched his jaw and then John walk in, grabbing his bass before slinging the strap over his back.

“All right?” The younger man asked him.

“No,” he confessed, agitated. “I’m not all right, Deaky. Does _that_ ,” he pointed to the window with his drumstick, “not bother you? You’re okay with Freddie and Paul being together?”

John’s face looked at the window and fell slightly before he looked over at Roger, giving him a solemn smile. “Freddie and I are on a break.”

“What?” Roger mouth dropped open in surprise.

John shrugged. “He said that the only way Paul would love him back would be if I was out of the picture. He doesn’t believe in three people being in love. He said it’s not fair.”

Roger felt his anger growing inside of him. He could handle being talked down to by Prenter but the minute that he made John upset was where he drew the line. The drummer slammed his sticks down hard before he got up and started towards the room.

“Wait! Rog, no… please don’t!” John begged, grabbing Roger’s arm.

The blonde gently shook him off before he entered the room where Freddie and Paul were making out hot and heavily, and shoved Paul as hard as he could, making him fall on the floor.

“What the hell was that for!” He exclaimed, taken back.

Freddie looked on in horror and knelt down beside Paul to make sure he was all right.

Roger was seething. His hands were shaking with rage and he burned holes into Paul. “It was for being a fucking prick!” He yelled, about to have a go at him again when Brian and John both hurried him, John placing a hand on Roger’s chest almost lovingly while the former man put his body between Roger and Paul.

“Get out!” Freddie yelled now. “Someone get him out now!”

“Come on,” John soothed, starting to try to push Roger out of the room.

The blonde let him lead him out as he tried to calm down. He ran a hand through his hair as Brian shut the door again and looked at Roger in disbelief.

“What are you doing, mate?”

“He deserves it. We’re just supposed to be okay with Paul taking over our whole lives, telling Freddie who he can and can’t be with? It’s bollocks, Bri!”

Brian’s brows knitted in confusion and looked over at John who just shook his head, not wanting to talk about it in front of everyone.

The guitarist looked back over at Roger. “Okay, we’re scrapping the rest of this session right now. I’m calling Ollie because you need to talk to him. You ignore my advice, you don’t listen to anyone else… you need to relax, Roger or we’re never going to get anything done.”

The drummer shook his head, tonguing his cheek. “I don’t have anything to say to Ollie.”

“Obviously, you do, or else you’d talk to me!” Brian shook his head as he walked out and headed towards the living room to use the phone.

The room was quiet for a few moments, and Roger looked at John. “Sorry, Deaky.”

John looked at him in surprise. “For what?”

“For you and Fred not being together anymore. It’s not fair.”

The bassist shook his head. “It’s not, but I can’t do anything about it anyway. I’ve tried. I’ve tried to convince Freddie that he’s bad news, but… Fred still says he loves me, no matter what. Anyway, I’ve already had my cry, so… I’m just trying to move on now, Rog.”

John set his bass down and headed towards the kitchen, leaving Roger alone now. The drummer sighed in exasperation and took a step back as Freddie came out, half worried that the singer was going to stand up for his new boy toy.

Freddie walked over to Roger and gave him a somber look, warning in his eyes. “Don’t lose your head, darling.”

Paul came out now and looked at Roger before leading Freddie out of the recording area.

Roger swallowed hard, wishing he were back at the flat in the city, wishing that Paul Prenter weren’t in their lives. He wanted things to go back to normal again. A part of him wished that Tim could come here and knock Paul out himself, but he knew that would just cause more harm than good for everyone.

It was bad enough that Brian didn’t like the fact he was making calls to their former enemy, turned friend. He knew he needed to get his act together, but he just felt himself going down the rabbit hole, deeper and deeper instead.


	2. hope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for all the positive feedback! Really lovin' it! Here's the next chapter. It's a slower one, but more things will happen again soon!

**. . .**

  
Roger had successfully isolated himself from the others after Brian called Ollie. He told the drummer that their friend wouldn’t be able to make it until tomorrow morning, so Roger was at least off the hook to talk to him this evening.

Freddie and Paul were in the piano room supposedly writing music, John had made tea for himself, Roger and Brian before settling himself on the couch in the living room to watch a movie. They watched the movie until it ended much later, and John headed off to bed, but Roger didn’t move.

Brian stood up and then looked down at his boyfriend. “Come on, love,” he spoke gently. “Let’s go to bed.”

“No, thanks.” He stayed put, looking down at his empty teacup.

The guitarist sighed and then knelt down in front of him before meeting his eyes. “Please, love? Please come to bed?”

Roger looked at him with anxious eyes before he shook his head. “What’s the point? I’m just going to be up again anyway.”

“The point,” Brian spoke softly, taking Roger’s hand in his own, “is that we could at least lay together, for a little bit. I just want to feel you, Roger. Please?”

The drummer looked back down at his cup, feeling himself weaken and finally nod in agreement. He stood up and grabbed John’s cup, and then Brian’s before he took it into the kitchen and placed it in the sink. He took Brian’s hand and let him lead them to their room.

They shared a smallish bed together; Roger’s thinning frame made it a bit easier, but Brian’s feet hung off the end of the bed and he took up the most room, but Roger didn’t mind.

They changed into their pajamas which entailed a shirt and pajama bottoms for Brian and a tank top and boxers for Roger, and then climbed into bed together. The two men huddled together in bed, holding each other, breathing each other in.

Roger closed his eyes and he fell asleep slowly.

_“It’s too bad you’re not us, Taylor, because at least then, you wouldn’t be a stain on the world. You’re worthless, your kind… nothing. The world would be much better off without you,” the first man spoke. “We’re going to make sure you don’t ever want to fuck another guy again.”_

_Roger could feel his heart racing hard against his chest, making it hard to breathe._

_He could feel the man’s hand on his belt, undoing it, and then saw the glimmer of silver of a knife._

Roger woke up with a start now, his body giving a jolt of alarm. He was breathing hard and looked over to make sure Brian was still there.

The guitarist lay still, although he was breathing at a steady rhythm. Roger watched his chest go up, and then down, and tried to mimic his breathing with his own. He was able to calm himself down a bit. but he knew there was no way he’d be able to go back to sleep now.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed and ran his hands over his face, still feeling an ache in his chest and his heart pounding against his ribcage. Those men probably wouldn’t have actually castrated him in a public restroom, but he had still managed to do enough damage with his words.

His words were what stuck with Roger.

_Worthless._

_A stain on the world._

_Better off without you._

Roger quietly stood up and walked downstairs and into the living room. He grabbed the phone and walked it into the piano room before he closed and locked the door so he wouldn’t be disturbed or disturb anyone else.

He sat down in an oversized armchair and set the phone on the table bedside him before he dialed Tim’s flat number.

_One ring._

_Two rings._

_Three rings._

_“Hello?”_

Roger curled up in the chair, sitting sideways in it so his legs were almost hugging his chest. “Hey, did I wake you?”

_“Nah, it’s all right, Rog. I was expecting your call anyway. Don’t you sleep?”_

“Not really, no.”

A beat of silence, and then Tim’s voice again. _“Have you talked to Brian about things at all? It might help. I mean, I’m always here to listen, but… he might actually be able to do something to help you work through things.”_

“He helps somewhat. I don’t want to talk about that, though.”

_“I know, mate. Sorry. We can talk about whatever you want. Go ahead, you pick the topic.”_

Roger bit his lip, thinking. “How’s Humpy Bong doing? Play any great gigs?” He was being genuine, keeping any sarcasm out of his voice. He wasn’t spiteful still about Tim leaving for his new band; after all, if he hadn’t ever left, then they never would’ve found Freddie or John.

Truth be told, it had been a blessing in disguise.

A self-deprecating chuckle from Tim’s end. _“We haven’t actually played any real gigs. We’ve put out a few singles, but… we haven’t really gotten our feet off the ground yet. Not like you guys.”_

Roger didn’t feel much better knowing that Tim’s band hadn’t done as well as he had hoped. “We’re doing okay. We’re making headway. We need to get this next album done though, and then I think we’ll be in better shape.”

_“Don’t worry, Rog. You guys will make it… I know you will. I’ve heard your songs. I really enjoy ‘Stone Cold Crazy,’ amongst a few others.”_

Roger gave a weak laugh now. “We can’t even remember who wrote that song. I think we all shared the credit for that one.”

Another soft laugh from the other man. “That was a good idea. I’m sure that avoided a lot of arguments,” there was a beat of silence and a gentle sigh from the other line. “It’d be nice to hang out with you in person again, Rog. I have to be honest… I don’t have many friends around here.”

Roger almost said, ‘me either, here,’ but bit his tongue. He could definitely relate. “Maybe after this album is finished, I’ll come out to visit you. I could use an escape right now.”

“So, escape,” Tim said with a chuckle.

The drummer ran his hand through his hair. “I’ll think about it. Thanks for letting me call you so early.”

“It’s fine, Rog. I have to get up for work anyway. I’m usually up around this time to get ready. It takes me two hours just to feel human before I can drive to work. I’ll let you go, though. Try and get some sleep, mate.”

Roger didn’t want to waste time telling him that was impossible. “Thanks. I’ll try.” He hung up the phone and set the phone back on the table.

He stood up and walked into the kitchen, deciding to clean the tea cups from last night, the counters, and tidy up out of sheer boredom, or maybe it was just the desire to feel like he wasn’t actually useless. He watched telly for a while, and then brewed a full pot of coffee for everyone before starting it, and walked outside for a smoke.

It was a bit chilly, but the sun was up, and the sound of chickens was the only sound he could hear. He had to admit, it was nice to get away from the sound of cabs and cars. The air in the English countryside was better compared to the air in the city; of course it was, it was less polluted.

He took a drag of his cigarette and smoked another one before he finally went back inside, seeing Brian and John both drinking coffee at the table and talking.

Roger grabbed his own cup and joined them, sitting between the men. “Freddie awake yet?”

“I heard them,” John said simply. “I think they’re still in the bedroom.”

Roger rolled his eyes, being reminded again how angry he felt about Freddie breaking it off with the younger man because of Paul. “Of course they are. They’re always in there now. It’s no wonder we can’t get anything done, is it? Maybe we’d get more done if they’d stop shagging for two minutes.”

“Roger,” Brian spoke with warning in his voice before giving him a look.

“What?” Roger shrugged and looked between them. “It’s true!”

John shook his head. “Just because it’s true doesn’t mean you should say it aloud. Things are already shit with Paul being here all the time. Can we just… get through this, and do what we have to do without you flying off the handle?”

Roger was taken back by John’s comment, which made him all the more frustrated. “Are you joking, Deaky? _You_ should be the most upset about this! Roger dumped you for a controlling arsehole! How can you just sit there and take it?”

“Roger!” Brian scolded now, looking at him in disbelief.

The drummer ignored him, continuing. “I’m serious, Deaks! You should want to kick his arse! If you don’t, I will. He wronged you… Paul isn’t like us! He doesn’t belong here.”

“Rog!” Brian said more firmly now. When Roger looked over at him, he stood up calmly. “Come on, let’s get some fresh air, love, yeah?”

“I was just out there.”

Brian shrugged. “So? I haven’t. Let’s go, Roger.”

Roger looked at John who looked calm and of no help to the blonde. He reluctantly stood up and followed Brian outside over to the fence. “What?” He asked in irritated now.

The guitarist searched his face, as if he didn’t recognize who he was looking at anymore. It was evident he was frustrated as well, but with Roger.

“I know you two don’t get along, and I don’t like Paul either, but he’s going to be around as long as we’re a band or as long as Freddie wants him around. It’s hard to work with you when you’re so fixated on your hatred for him,” the older man remarked.

“I can’t help it! Bri, he criticizes my playing, even when you tell me I’m playing fine, and of course Paul’s opinion is the only one that matters! Ours doesn’t even matter anymore!”

Brian tucked his curls behind his ears to get it out of his face and moved closer to him, taking Roger’s hand in his own. He gently caressed his skin before he kissed it.

“It irritates me as well, but I know that I need to swallow it so we can get this bloody album done, Rog. You need to do the same,” Brian spoke patiently.

Roger took his hand out Brian’s, shaking his hand. He couldn’t understand his boyfriend’s compliance with Paul. The blonde was through with playing nice with Paul. They had been dealing with the man for awhile now, since Freddie and he hooked up weeks ago. Roger just didn’t have the patience anymore.

“Fuck that. I’m sorry, Bri… I just can’t put up with it. I fucking hate him.”

Brian sighed and looked out at the road to see a cab coming towards the farm. “That’ll be Ollie. Try talking to him. Calm down a little, yeah? I’m going back in.”

Roger watched as he walked back inside the converted barn and took a deep breath before he headed over to meet Ollie. They hugged in greeting before they started to walk back.

“How are you doing, Roger?” Ollie asked politely.

The other man stopped before reaching the fence and looked over at him. “What did Brian tell you?”

Ollie shrugged and shook his head. “Not a lot. Just that you needed someone to talk to,” he examined Roger’s tense appearance. “I can’t help but notice you don’t look eager to go inside. Would you like to have our therapy session outside today?”

Roger relaxed a little now and nodded. “Yeah, if that’s okay.”

“Of course. Let’s go sit under that tree,” Ollie led them over to a large oak tree away from the barn and sat down across from Roger. He took out the pad of paper and a pen from his satchel before smiled encouragingly at him. “Go ahead, Rog. Just talk about whatever you feel like.”

Roger started talking about his gripes with Paul Prenter for the next half hour and Ollie sat patiently, occasionally taking notes. He seemed to be more patient with him than Brian was. When Roger stopped speaking, Ollie took the opportunity to talk now.

“I don’t blame you for being upset, Roger… it seems like Brian doesn’t either. You both are frustrated with this new guy coming into your lives, and now that he’s Freddie’s partner, I can see how upset it could make you. I suspect this could be one of the symptoms of why you’re not sleeping,” Ollie noted.

“Probably.”

Ollie leaned against the tree and looked at his friend. “You’ve gone through a lot of changes in a short amount of time. Back in the city when you were dealing with Tim, you were able to head to the pub for a while to get away from him. Here, you’re in the country and there isn’t anywhere to run to… just outside.”

Roger chewed on his lower lip. “Tim offered to hang out with me in London with him. I’m thinking of taking him up on it, you know? I feel like… maybe it would be better for everyone.”

Ollie smiled softly. “Maybe. How are things between you and him? Still all right?”

“Yeah,” Roger nodded, enjoying being in the wide open space, away from everyone. “We’re good.”

Ollie nodded. “Good. I know it must be tempting to run to the city, but… you have obligations here. This is your job, and you should finish what you’re currently working on before you decide to get away from everyone.”

Roger scoffed. “If I stay here, I’m going to kill Paul.”

Ollie looked a bit uneasy now. “Are you speaking… literally? If so, that is very concerning, Rog.”

The drummer bit his lip and shook his head, but then he thought about how he had hurt Liam so bad he ended up in the hospital. “I… I don’t know. Probably not… but I want to hurt him every time words come out of Prenter’s mouth, and the fact that he hurt John! I just… I hate that Freddie had to break up with him. They’ve been together so long!”

“It can be quite upsetting when two people who have been together for a while break up,” Ollie nodded. “How is John handling it?”

“He’s fine. He basically is on Brian’s side in wanting me to play nice with Paul. I just can’t do that, though.”

Ollie searched his face. “How are your blackouts? Have you had any since you all moved here?”

“Not yet.”

“‘Yet’? Are you expecting to have one? Are you feeling symptoms of them at all?”

Roger thought for a moment and shook his head. “No, I haven’t. Just… fucking… rage. It sort of scares me though,” he confessed. “It’s like… I can feel it running through me. I don’t know when I’m going to blackout again, though, and if I do, I’m afraid I’ll really hurt someone.”

Ollie wrote on a pad of paper and then ripped it off before he moved over to Roger and knelt down in front of him, holding it out. “I wrote you a prescription for Trazodone*. It’s used for a treatment of anxiety as well as insomnia. I think it might help you, and if it doesn’t, if you’re feeling serious side-effects from it, then let me know and I’ll see if we can switch things up, yeah?”

Roger nodded, taking the paper, and folding it up. “All right, mate. Cheers. What do I do about Paul?”

“Take deep breaths,” Ollie replied with a playful smirk. “Do something cathartic for yourself. Smash on your drums, go outside for a walk, lock yourself in your room, if need be. When he makes you angry, says something out of line, walk away. Don’t give him the satisfaction of being upset by it.”

Roger gave a chuckle. “Easier said than done.”

Ollie also snickered and clapped a gentle hand on Roger’s arm before he helped both of them onto their feet before Roger saw him off, and then went headed back towards their new home.

Maybe he’d get lucky and he’d be able to go into town to fulfill the prescription himself; that would be amazing. The drummer doubted he could get that lucky, but he would, and could, hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trazodone is for anxiety, depression and can also be used to treat insomnia. I can't find when it was made but it came to the United States around 1981, so I'm taking liberties with making it an antidepressant during the 1970s.


	3. old habits

**. . .**

Roger made his way back inside the house into the kitchen where he saw everyone sitting having breakfast and coffee. He moved over to Brian and held out the piece of paper with the drummer’s prescription on it.

Brian took it from him curiously. Roger bit his lip anxiously, glancing nervously over at Paul and Freddie before looking back at his boyfriend. He gave him a small smile. “Do you want to come into town with me to do a bit of shopping?”

Roger gave an excited grin and nodded, eager to get out of the house.

“Oh, do you need some groceries?” Paul asked. “I can go into town with Freddie and get them for you.” It was a kind gesture wrapped in a disguise; there was always something else to Paul’s offers.

Roger tensed a bit.

“No, that’s all right, Paul. Roger and I got it handled. You and Fred stay here. John, would you like to come with us?” Brian asked him politely.

John’s eyes brightened. “Yeah, sure thing. Cheers.”

“All right, we’ll go after breakfast then,” the guitarist declared, looking over at a relieved Roger now. His whole body seemed to relax again, and he appeared to be in better spirits already.

“I’ll go get dressed,” John smiled before putting his plate in the sink and heading off to his room.

Roger watched him leave and moved closer to Brian, just to be close.

“Did you get much sleep, Roger?” Paul asked again in his Irish lilt. “I heard you up and about late last night.”

“Is that true, darling? You’re still not sleeping well?” Freddie asked with genuine concern in his voice now, turning to the blonde.

Roger swallowed hard, feeling Brian’s eyes on him. “I just got up for a little bit. I couldn’t sleep,” he replied sheepishly, shrugging. “It’s fine.”

“Oh, now I don’t think it _is_ fine, Roger. You were on the phone for quite a bit of time as well,” Paul remarked. “Who was it that you were talking to?”

Roger clenched and unclenched his jaw, ready to punch out the man. He sighed and shook his head, feeling hot with shame as he felt Brian’s eyes still watching him. “It was a friend… Christ, is it going to be like this all the time now? Why do you even care, Paul?”

Paul let out a small scoff and put his hands up in the universally known ‘I surrender’ sign. “I was just concerned for you, is all.”

“Was it Tim?” Brian asked softly.

Roger sighed before giving a nod, figuring it was no use lying to him; he’d find out one way or another anyway. “Yeah, it was.

“Is he all right with you calling him so early in the morning, darling?” Disapproval was laced in the singer’s tone.

“He’s fine with it, Fred. He told me he has work early anyway! I’m an adult, why does it even matter what I’m doing? Why do I need bloody permission?” Roger asked, incredulous.

Freddie had his arms wrapped around Paul and grew quiet. The drummer turned to look at Brian.

“You call him a lot, Roger,” he said softly, averting his eyes down to his coffee mug. “You don’t need anyone’s permission, but we’re just your mates and we worry.”

Roger looked at the guitarist now. “I call him because he’s my only friend outside this place!”

“From your conversations, it seems like maybe those conversations mean more to you,” Paul spoke, shrugging.

Roger tensed, and felt himself freeze as he looked over at Brian who had confusion and hurt in his eyes. The blonde quickly shook his head. “No, Bri, it’s not like that! I swear! I told you, Tim’s straight! Why the hell would I be flirting with him?”

“Maybe he’s not as straight as he would have you believe,” Paul suggested.

Roger knew what Paul was doing; this was one of his tricks that he’d done before to Roger. He knew just what to say to make Brian hurt, even if it involved lies. Paul was a life-ruiner, just like Liam, just like James. He really wanted to knock all of his teeth out now.

Brian stood up now and cleared his throat. “Come on, let’s head into town,” he walked over to the stairs. “Shake a leg, John! We’re heading out now!”

“All right!” John called back. “Meet you out in the van!”

Brian led Roger out of the barn before heading towards his van; it had been one of the constants, at least. They could have gotten a better, more reliable vehicle, but Brian insisted on keeping his van and opted for getting repairs done on it when they could safely afford it.

Roger climbed in the passenger seat beside Brian as he started it up.

“It wasn’t like Paul said, Bri… I swear,” Roger insisted. “Don’t believe a damn thing that comes out of that arsehole’s mouth!”

“Stop, Rog,” Brian sighed. “It’s fine, really.” His tone indicted otherwise, however.

The drummer tensed a bit, feeling panic edging its way in his chest. “He really is straight. I swear to god, we’re just friends. We just talk –ʺ

Brian saw John making his way towards the van hurriedly and glanced over at Roger. “What do you talk about? What did you talk about with Tim this morning?”

Roger shrugged. “I wasn’t flirting or anything. We just talked about his job a bit, how his band was doing, how we were doing… and how he said he didn’t mind me calling him up so early.”

He bit his lip when he saw Brian’s shoulders sink as he got to the end. He looked over at Roger. “I don’t mind you walking about the house at night, but… can you please not call Tim anymore, at least around that time?”

“What? Why not?”

Brian suddenly hit the steering wheel, but out of frustration with himself. “Because when you call him at four in the morning, it feels like you’re trying to be secretive about it! Just… stop, yeah?”

Roger was taken back by Brian’s sudden anger, but he nodded. “Fine.”

“Good. Thank you.”

The two men fell quiet as John climbed in the back and sat down. “Ready.”

Brian backed out of the long driveway and headed towards the city. Roger had the window opened so he could smoke, and for the most part, they were quiet until they arrived into town about half an hour later.

They arrived at the grocery store and hopped out of the van, grateful for the chance to stretch their legs. Brian turned to Roger, holding out the prescription paper. “Here, Roger… go with John and get this filled. I’ll be next door grabbing a few groceries.”

Roger was about to object, not about John going with him, but about Brian not taking them to get groceries and go with them to fill the prescription. It was clear that the guitarist needed time away from his boyfriend; he was upset with him.

He was jealous.

Brian had already left them though before Roger could open his mouth to protest. He looked over at John and led him inside the small pharmacy building.

“What’s going on?” John asked him.

Roger handed the paper to the pharmacists behind the counter and sat down with the bassist to wait. He sighed and ran his hands through his hair. “Paul’s causing trouble, as usual. He’s hated me from day one. He’s constantly trying to turn you guys against me.”

John’s brows knitted in thought as he tried to take this in. “Why does he have a problem with you talking to Tim though? I thought we were all right with him?”

Roger crossed his arms across his chest and looked down, shrugging. “He’s jealous. Paul put the idea that Tim might not be so straight after all into Bri’s head. Now it’s all he can think. He’s paranoid, Deaky! Tim’s straight – I know he is. We don’t flirt or anything. I just wish I could make Brian believe that.”

John gave an odd chuckle. “Don’t worry, Roger. I’m sure he does believe you. He knows how Paul is; he’s not going to believe him over you. He loves you, Rog. Don’t worry about him. If he’s still jealous about you two, then that’s his problem, not yours, mate.”

The drummer felt the knot in his chest ease off a little, and he smiled at John. “Thanks, Deaks.”

John smiled warmly at him and looked at him a bit shyly. “So, feel free to tell me to piss off, but… what are these meds for? I mean, what did Ollie say they would for you?”

“Oh,” Roger straightened up in his chair. “I guess they’re supposed to help my anxiety, and help me sleep.”

John smiled brightly now. “That’s great, Rog. I hope it really does help you. You could use the sleep. It’s not good you being up all night.”

“I know,” Roger nodded, agreeing with him. He found that when he stayed up all night, he could barely function later on in the day; his brain was wide awake and didn’t want to shut off, but his body was usually already checking out.

“Roger Taylor?” The pharmacist asked, holding out a bag.

He stood up and paid for his medication before heading out of the pharmacy. “Should we head inside and try to find Bri or just meet him in the van?”

John moved over to the window and put his face against it. “Mmmm… let’s wait in the van. I don’t see him in line yet.”

The two men both moved into the back of the van together and sat down on the floor. Roger was hit with déjà vu as he remembered his last experience with being in someone else’s van. He took a couple deep breaths to stop his mind from going back _there_.

He swallowed hard and looked down at his hands.

“All right, Rog?”

The drummer took another deep breath and nodded, feeling a headache beginning to form. He knew what that meant; he might have another blackout anytime.

He took out his pills from the bag and started to open the cap, but John reached over now and placed his hand on Roger’s.

“Hey, wait. You’re only supposed to take that at night. What are you doing?”

The blonde looked over at him with fearful eyes. “Deaky, I think I’m about to have a blackout, a-and… I’m afraid of hurting anyone. I think this is just for the best. Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.”

Roger quickly dry swallowed a pill before John could grab it out of his hands. John looked at him with alarm.

“Fuck, Roger! Oh my god. You can’t just do that… anyway, it might not even work right away. Your body will need time to get used to them,” John sighed, shaking his head.

Roger wasn’t sure if he’d be okay, but at least he’d feel tired, a side effect of the pills, and maybe if he fell asleep before he blacked out, that was better for everyone. He chewed on his bottom lip anxiously. “Don’t worry. All I need is to fall asleep.”

The two men waited for anything to happen, either Roger blacking out first or him falling asleep. It was almost forty-five minutes until the blonde finally was feeling sleepy. The headache didn’t feel as bad anymore, so perhaps the pills were doing their job.

“Are you feeling okay?” John asked worriedly, kneeling in front of Roger who had made himself comfortable on the seat.

Roger gave a nod. “Yeah, ‘m all right, Deaky. Just feeling tired…”

Then, the door opened, and Brian was standing there with groceries. He set the bags inside before he climbed in, concern in his eyes as he caressed the drummer’s hair. “Roger? Can you hear me, love?”

The drummer gave a tired nod, his eyes closed as he hovered in a comfortably sleepy daze.

“He took one of his pills,” John answered the unasked question.

Brian turned to him, surprised. “He did? Why? He knows they’re for night time. Why would he take one during the day?”

“He said he was having a headache, and that he was afraid he might blackout. I guess he didn’t want to hurt anyone and thought it was better to fall asleep before that happened,” John shrugged.

“Shit,” Brian sighed, still caressing his boyfriend’s hair softly. “Oh Rog, I really wish you hadn’t done that,” he whispered, speaking more to himself than Roger.

“Is he going to be okay?”

Brian wet his lips before he looked around and grabbed a shirt that had been left in the van, crumpled it up and lay it under the blonde’s head so he’d be more comfortable. “Yeah, he’ll be all right. He just has to not take them tomorrow and start it the next evening instead. He shouldn’t take it so early like this.”

He kissed Roger’s forehead and then moved into the driver’s seat and started the van up. John sat down in the seat across from his friend and watched him finally sleep as they drove back towards the farm. When they made it back, they got out of the van and opened the back up.

“John, if you could take two bags, I’ll grab Roger, and then I’ll come back out again for the rest, yeah?”

The bassist nodded. “Yeah, all right.” He grabbed two bags of groceries before letting Brian scoop up Roger and started up to the barn house with him.

He kicked the door open for John before entering as well and took Roger upstairs to their room before laying him down. He tucked him in and headed back outside to grab the rest of the groceries.

“What did you do to Rog?” Freddie asked curiously as he came out where John was unloading the groceries. “I saw Brian carry him upstairs!”

John bit his lip. “He fell asleep,” he half-lied, deciding to leave out the part of Roger taking medication wen he wasn’t supposed to.

“Well, I suppose that’s good. At least he’s finally sleeping, darling. Poor thing.” Freddie didn't really understand Roger, not like John and Brian did, anyway. He had barely looked emotional when he found out Roger had put Liam in the hospital, or when Roger had been locked in at the club. Brian wasn't sure why it was, but he felt like although Freddie seemed to care about Roger, it wasn't anywhere to the level that John and Brian cared about the drummer. 

Paul came in now as Brian set the rest of the bags from the van on the counter and began to help John unload. The guitarist was silently praying that he wouldn't say anything, but of course he couldn't get that lucky. 

“At least he won’t be attempting to kill me anymore today,” he chuckled.

“That makes one of us,” John said under his breath. Brian looked over at him but didn’t say anything. If he was being honest, it was Brian himself that wanted to put his hands around Paul's throat just to make him stop messing with Roger and talking shit about him all the time.

Paul didn’t seem to hear him and put his arms around Freddie. “Come on, Freddie, let’s go write some more music.”

“I don’t want to, darling… I had something a bit more… physical in mind.”

Paul smirked and let Freddie lead them out of the kitchen before disappearing upstairs.

“It’s a good thing Roger’s out cold right now,” John remarked. “He wouldn’t be happy waking up to them.”

Brian gave a nod of agreement before he looked at John. “Did you try to stop him from taking the pills?”

“Yeah, of course I did, Brian! I did try, but he swallowed it so fast.”

The guitarist sighed. “I’m just worried he’s falling back into old habits again. Not sleeping, barely eating, anxiety, blackouts… I’m afraid he’s going to try to kill himself again. I don’t like him having his own pills.”

“He just didn't want to blackout. I honestly don't think it's a huge ordeal. Anyway, he’s a grown adult, Brian. He can handle his own medication…” John reminded him, as if to make a point.

Brian gave a nod. “Even grown adults can fall apart and overdose on purpose.” He reached up to put bags of crisps into the cupboard.

“I know, but… we’re here for him, even if it’s just the two of us… we can watch him. He’ll be okay.”

Brian ran his hands through his hair. “I hope you’re right, John.”


	4. I'm In Love (again)

**. . .**

Roger woke up with a blinding headache. At first it alarmed him, but it didn’t feel like it usually did when he was about to blackout. His blackout headaches were dull aches, not blinding headaches. He glanced over at the clock and saw it was nearly seven, but the brightness out his window didn’t make sense.

The sun was high in the sky – it wasn’t setting like it should be.

_Did he sleep the whole day into the next morning? Was it possible he actually slept for a whole night?_

It was the only conclusion that made sense. He rolled out of bed and started downstairs, making a beeline for the bathroom. Roger ran into the sink, forgetting where it was in the dim light of the small window, hitting his hip.

“Ow! Fuck…” he swore irritably, holding his waist in pain.

He reached up and grabbed the bottle of painkillers as Brian came in. “Good morning, love,” he greeted. “How did you sleep?”

Roger shrugged, still feeling groggy. “I have a fucking headache, and I feel nauseous as hell. I slept great. It was the waking up part that wasn’t great.”

Brian took the bottle of painkillers from him and opened it for him before handing him two aspirin. Roger quickly took it with the water from the tap. “It could be side effects from the meds. It’ll take your body a while to get used to it.”

Roger sighed and looked at him. “I don’t have a while. I need them to get used to my body now. I thought for sure I was going to have a blackout yesterday! I’m glad I took it when I did.”

The older man looked at him disapprovingly now and led him into the kitchen before pouring himself a cup of coffee. “That’s another thing, Rog. I don’t want to taking them whenever you feel like you’re about to blackout. You’re only supposed to take them at night; they’re to help you sleep. It’s not an instant cure for blackouts, yeah?”

“It worked, though!” Roger protested, taking a sip.

Brian leaned against the counter, looking at his boyfriend. “I know, but it’s dangerous taking them during the day. What if you had been driving instead of me and were about to blackout? Would you still have taken it?”

Roger shrugged, biting his lip. If he were honest, he probably would have, but he also would have probably pulled off to the side of the road somewhere somewhat secluded if he felt sleepy. “What does it matter? As long as my blackout would’ve stopped.”

“It _does_ matter, Rog. I know it seems simple enough to take them whenever you feel like it, but they’re not a solution to your blackouts. Your anxiety and blackouts go hand in hand, right? Your pills are to help your anxiety and to sleep. If you’re not feeling anxiety, then you won’t have any blackouts,” Brian tried to reason.

“You sound a lot like Ollie now,” Roger scoffed, taking a sip of coffee.

Both men tensed a little when they heard footsteps but relaxed again when they saw John enter and head over to the coffee. Roger moved out of the younger man’s way.

Brian continued, figuring Roger didn’t mind if they talked about this in front of John, since he knew mostly about what had happened yesterday anyway. “Well, I apologize, Rog, but maybe you need to hear it. I know that Ollie didn’t want you taking it during the day. Just… promise me you won’t take it just for your blackouts anymore. Take it at night, all right?”

Roger gave a nod. “Fine, I promise. So, what do I do for it today? Should I take it tonight?”

“No,” Brian shook his head. “Take it tomorrow night. You’ll have to deal with things without it today, I’m afraid. Anyway, I’m not sure if you should take painkillers on it or not. It might affect how well it works.”

“Right.” Roger felt like he had been scolded by a father, and didn’t really appreciate it. He moved over to the kitchen island where the chairs were lined up next to each other and sat down to drink his coffee.

Brian walked over, standing across from him as John also took his place beside Roger. He was about to say something when they heard giggles and voices coming down the stairs and he remained quiet again, looking over to see Paul and Roger hanging over each other.

“Good morning, gents,” Paul greeted, going over to grab himself some coffee, and a cup for Freddie.

None of the three musicians greeted him back. Freddie walked over and sat beside John.

“Has everyone woken up on the wrong side of the bed today?” Freddie asked rhetorically. “What’s going on? Who died?”

“No one,” Roger spoke now. “We’re just sick of your pet, is all.”

Freddie walked over to Roger and smirked. “My pet? That’s absolutely ridiculous, Rog. You know how Paul and I feel about each other, darling. I would’ve thought that you would understand, having a boyfriend of your own and all.”

“I’d be fine if he was your boyfriend but he’s barely even human,” the drummer scoffed.

Brian placed a hand on his back. “Roger, come on. Let’s go somewhere else,” he suggested, having a bad feeling of what was to come next.

“Oh, I’m fine here, but Paul can feel free to scamper away.”

Paul glared daggers at the drummer now before he started to charge towards him threateningly. Freddie quickly put his arm out in front of Paul to stop him.

“Now, now… let’s not lose ourselves so early in the morning, shall we? After all, we still have album to finish. Come on, dear,” he looked at Paul and started to drag him away from everyone. “Roger here is being childish, and he needs to be put in time out.”

Paul reluctantly let Freddie pull him away from he gave Roger a warning look before leaving the room. John and Brian both looked at the drummer.

“Why do you have to do that, Roger?” Brian sighed, taking a drink of his coffee while looking across the counter at his boyfriend. “Why do you feel the need to fight all the time?”

Roger shook his head in disbelief, finishing his own coffee before looking up at the older man. “How can you just stand there and take it? Actually, how can you just let them both jab me like they have been? You could’ve stood up for me!”

Brian exchanged looks with John before he looked back at the blonde. “I don’t need to. I know you can stand up for yourself. You can fight your own fights, Roger… but talking back to either of them isn’t going to diffuse the situation.”

“I get why Paul doesn’t like me, but why the hell is Freddie on my back?” Roger asked, seemingly ignoring Brian’s earlier comment. “I haven’t done anything to him. He was fine until he hooked up with that… prick.”

Brian wrapped an arm around him and kissed his temple. “I don’t know, love.”

Roger shrugged him off and slid off his chair before he poured himself another cup of coffee and started away from the kitchen.

“Where are you going, Rog?” Brian called out to him.

“Going to write some music,” Roger explained, heading outside. “I need to clear my head before I do something smart like hurt Prenter.”

Roger grabbed a pad of paper and a pen on his way out and then made himself comfortable under a tree before he started to write, feeling inspiration coming out of his fingers.

  
**……… … ……….**

Brian and John were both looking skeptically in Roger’s direction as they sat across from him in the kitchen the next morning.

Roger had spent the entire day outside writing, even staying up half the night to finish his song. He had managed to get a couple hours of sleep before four in the morning, but he had actually been excited to show the others what he had written. He called a morning meeting of the band to discuss it and Freddie was late, as usual.

Now the drummer was slicing up potatoes to fry up in the pan, albeit angrily slicing them up.

“I put my heart and soul into this song,” he complained.

John shrugged. “No one is disputing that –ʺ

“And you don’t like it,” Roger continued, as if John hadn’t said anything, “because you want your songs on the album –ʺ

Brian closed his eyes, pressing his hand into his forehead in exhaustion.

“It’s not that, Roger,” John insisted, smirking slightly.

The blonde turned to look at them. “Then what is it?”

Brian finally looked up at his boyfriend, his eyes calm and loving. “‘I’m In Love With My Car,” he shrugged unsurely.

John face contorted in the same uncertainty as Brian’s and motioned with his fork as he half shrugged again.

“Maybe it’s not strong enough?” the guitarist suggested cautiously. He didn’t want to be the one to make Roger explode, but he felt the need to voice his opinion about a song he couldn’t see on the album.

Roger could feel his anger spilling over quickly and he looked at both men in disbelief. “What does that even mean, ‘not strong enough’?”

It was then when Freddie entered the kitchen from outside and opted for tea instead of coffee. “I know I’m late – what did I miss?”

John looked over at the singer. “Discussing Roger’s car song.”

“Is it strong enough? That’s all I’m asking,” Brian put his hands up in surrender, looking over at Fred for confirmation. “If I’m on my own here, then… I apologize.”

Roger couldn’t remember a time when Brian had disagreed with a song he had written so strongly before. It felt like the guitarist was against him more than with him nowadays. They used to be a team, and now it felt like the drummer was alone.

_He might as well not even have a boyfriend at all._

He felt like it was time to turn the tables as he spotted Brian’s new song he had written on the counter as well. Roger rushed over to it. “How does your new song go, then?” He grabbed the piece of paper with Brian’s scribbles over it. “‘You call me sweet like I’m some kind of cheese,’” he read aloud.

Brian waved his hand as he looked over at John and Freddie. “It’s good,” he nodded, unable to see a problem with his lyrics.

“Wow!” Roger replied sarcastically.

Brian was starting to get agitated now. “Is that…is that,” he looked down now at Roger’s lyrics. “‘When my hand’s on your grease gun.’ That’s very subtle,” he scoffed.

Roger glanced over and saw Freddie and John both trying to hide smirks on their faces, but he refocused his attention on the older man. “It’s a metaphor, Brian!”

John looked at his friend across from them now and gave him an almost sympathetic smile, feeling bad that the others were teasing him. “It’s just a bit weird, Roger,” he tried to reason. “What exactly are you doing with that car?”

Brian gave him a look as well as he agreed with Brian.

“Children, please,” Freddie suddenly interjected now calmly. “We could all murder each other, but then who would be left to record this album?”

“Statistically speaking,” John suddenly spoke again. “Most bands don’t fail. They break up.”

Roger blinked, not having expected the bassist to say anything like that. It definitely didn’t feel like a positive note to be added during this conversation that had turned into an argument.

It seemed to take Freddie back as well. “Why the hell would you say something like that?” John gave a casual shrug, looking back at their singer again. “Roger, there’s only room in this band for one hysterical queen.”

Freddie grabbed his cigarettes and started back outside, apparently wanting no more of his conversation.

“You know why you’re angry, Roger,” Brian spoke softly.

The blonde looked at him with impatience in his eyes. “Why?” The truth was that Roger didn’t want to know why, because he didn’t believe it was true in the first place.

“Because you know your song isn’t strong enough,” Brian answered factually as he lifted up his coffee.

Roger tried taking a deep breath, his anger spilling freely over now as he grabbed a handful of potatoes that were in the pan before he threw them in Brian’s direction. “Is that strong enough?”

Brian barely flinched, used to Roger’s temper tantrums.

The drummer knocked over both John’s and Brian’s plates onto the floor, shattering them into pieces. “How about that?” Still not response. He picked up the coffee pot now and aimed it high in the air, threatening to throw that on the floor as well.

Brian and John both tensed and pointed a warning finger at him. “Not the coffee machine!” they both ordered in unison.

Roger growled in frustration as he slammed the coffee machine back in its proper place but then suddenly opened a cupboard in the kitchen and then crawled inside of it before slamming the door behind him. He looked around and found a rubber band nearby.

He quickly tied the rubber band around the knobs on the inside before he slumped down on the floor. It was a tightish space, but it was enough to fit his body.

“Roger, what on earth are you doing?” John asked, his voice sounding closer.

Roger folded his arms across his chest, but he didn’t answer him, still fuming from the disagreement. Then he saw shadows of feet walking towards the cabinet he had locked himself inside of before he heard Brian’s voice.

“Rog, come on out, yeah? We can talk about this.”

“Only if you agree to put my song on the B-side!” Roger protested. He knew that he was actually being childish right now but something inside of him told him it was the only way.

“Love, you’re being really silly right now. Come on.”

Roger remained where he was.

“Brian,” John spoke. “I think he’s serious about this. Maybe we should just let him have it?”

The drummer half smiled at the bassist’s suggestion, feeling his heart warm a little at the sound of it. He knew that Brian wouldn’t agree to it as easily, however, and he didn’t disappoint.

“We can’t do that, John. It’s a song about having sex with a car.”

Roger sighed now and shook his head, scoffing. “I told you, it’s a metaphor! For having sex with a person! I didn’t explicitly say I was about to stick my prick in the exhaust pipe of a car, did I?!”

Brian hit the cupboard lightly. “You might as well have!”

“It’s better about a song about someone calling me cheese!” Roger exclaimed from inside the cupboard. He saw Brian try to open it, but the rubber band held it in place.

“Fine, Roger. If you want to act like an adolescent who wasn’t allowed sweets, fine! Have your temper tantrum from in there, and come out when you’re ready to start acting like an adult!” Brian announced before he stormed out of the kitchen.

He thought that John had left as well but then he heard his soft voice.

“Roger, come on, mate,” he spoke softly, almost lovingly. “You don’t need to do this. I’m sure if you came out, we could all discuss this rationally.”

Roger was grateful that John was at least keeping his patience with him, but the drummer was determined. “Sorry, Deaky, but I’m serious! I want my song on side B. I’m sick of being treated like a second class citizen around here!”

John sighed gently but then Roger heard him sliding down against the wall near the cupboard. “I’m not treating you like one, Rog, and Brian loves you.”

“You both criticized my song!” Roger reminded him. “You both said you hated it!”

“We didn’t say that, Roger,” John corrected. “We just thought it wasn’t especially strong… not like your other songs. We liked your other songs, Rog. It’s just this one that we have strong opinions about. Anyway, there’s no way Freddie is going to agree that it’ll go on the B-side of his song, _our_ song.”

Roger threw his arms up in the air. “Well, I’m not bloody leaving this cupboard until he agrees to do it! I’m sorry, Deaks, but that’s the way it is.”

He heard John stand up again and then walk out.

He didn’t know how long he was in there but at some point, he managed to fall asleep from sheer boredom. He woke up to a tapping on the cupboard door.

“Roger? Freddie’s here with both John and me now. We’re here to talk about your song. Why don’t you come on out?”

“No,” Roger said firmly. “I’m not coming out until he agrees to my terms!”

“Oh, Roger, you’re being ridiculous right now darling!” Freddie chuckled. “Come on out of there now and stop acting like this is a hostage situation!”

“It basically is, though,” John shrugged, looking over at Brian.

“There’s no way in _hell_ I’m putting that silliness of a song on my side-B of Bohemian Rhapsody! I’m sorry, Roger, but it’s an utterly weird song!” Freddie objected.

The drummer remained firmly in place from his position on the floor, quiet.

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Fred,” John suddenly sighed. “Just give it to him! We’ll come up with more songs on more albums later on! This is just one record of many more, right? What harm will it be to just… let him have his car song? To be fair, Bohemian Rhapsody is a little weird as well.”

Freddie made a sharp sound with his voice, one of betrayal. “John, since when were you on his side? Anyway, I shall not! The harm it will do would be that people would always associate our one wonderful song with that horrid car song forevermore! We can’t have that!”

“He’s not coming out of there, Freddie,” John stated. “He won’t. He’s locked himself in there and he’s spent almost the whole day in there already. He hasn’t eaten, hasn’t drank anything! He probably needs to use the loo. Just… bloody give it to him so he can eat, and drink and we can all move on with our lives.”

There was a tense silence in the room for several minutes.

Then a groan of frustration from Freddie. “Fine! Bloody fine! You’ve got your silly car song on side-B of Bohemian Rhapsody! Are you happy, Roger?”

“You mean it?” The drummer asked from inside the cupboard.

A heavy sigh.

“Yes, Rog, I mean it. Now come on out of there, this instant!”

Roger was still cautious, but he undid the rubber band from inside and climbed out of the cupboard now before seeing everyone else look at him.

“You’re lucky Paul isn’t here to see your behavior, darling,” Freddie walked out of the kitchen and headed towards the piano room.

Brian stared at Roger, as if he weren’t even sure who the man was anymore. He shook his head before he also left.

The drummer watched him leave, his heart falling into his gut, and he suddenly felt so stupid. Then he felt John’s arms around him in a hug, seeing their little drummer boy looking so sad.

“It’s all right, Rog. Don’t worry. Brian will come around. He’s just…” John trailed off, looking for the right words.

“Tired of dealing with my shit,” Roger finished for him. “I can’t blame him. He’s gone through so much with me in a short period of time. I don’t blame him if he wants to leave me.”

“He’s not going to leave you, Rog,” John shook his head. “You fought for what you believed in, your song. I still think it’s a really weird song, but you believed in it, and in the end, you got what you wanted. I think that’s what music and writing it is about, you know? Believing in your own songs, even when other people find them weird or don’t understand them.”

The blonde hugged him tighter now, feeling warmth and love that he hadn’t felt in a long time from Brian.

“Thank you, Deaky,” he said sincerely, warmly.

He felt the younger man lightly caress Roger’s lower back before he parted from the other man. He saw hesitation on his face. Roger swallowed hard, feeling a lump in his throat.

This man in front of him had stuck with him since they had arrived here at this place in the middle of nowhere. John had remained on Roger’s side through this whole Paul ordeal, when Brian hadn’t. He wasn’t sure what he was doing as he leaned in towards John.

The other man leaned in as well, and their lips embraced. It was a feeling that Roger had long forgotten. It didn’t feel like kissing Brian, but it wasn’t worse or better; it was different in a way that the drummer could never explain, not even to himself.

They had broken up once before, but Roger felt like he needed him now more than ever. He placed his hands on John’s cheeks and lightly thumbed them as they continued to kiss.

John let his tongue crash over his, and then before either of them knew what the other was doing, John found himself pulling Roger into the laundry room and then closed and locked the door.


	5. my friend Tim

**. . .**

Since Roger couldn’t take his pills that night, he walked the house like a ghost until about four in the morning. He couldn’t stop thinking about the quick shag he had had with John the previous day.

A part of him felt guilty, feeling like he had cheated on Brian. Roger hadn’t ever had sex with John the whole time he had been with Brian; he knew the guitarist wanted to be the only one Roger would had sex with, and he had obliged, happily.

Things felt different now, and he felt distant from Brian nowadays. He felt a dynamic shift in the relationship, and it just felt _uncomfortable._ Roger still loved Brian, but he felt like John was more on his team than the former was. He tried to figure out how he would tell the older man about how he felt and what he had done with John.

He tensed when he heard footsteps now and was surprised to see Paul walk in, smirking when he saw Roger.

“I thought I heard you sculking around like a mouse,” Paul remarked in his lilt. “Freddie told me about your temper tantrum that you had over your song yesterday afternoon. He told me that you were acting like a spoiled child about it. It’s no wonder that Brian can’t stand you.”

Roger looked up at him from his place on the couch and shook his head. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, so shut the hell up before I stuff you in the piano.”

Paul gave a chuckle, rolling his eyes as he walked closer to him. “I don’t want to be the one to tell you this, but I overheard him chatting to Freddie about it before bed last night.”

The drummer swallowed hard but looked up at Prenter with cold eyes. “You’re lying. I know Brian, and he wouldn’t talk behind my back like that. Nice try, though.”

The other man shrugged. “Fine, don’t believe me. I honestly don’t care. I just thought I’d give you a heads up is all, Roger.” He started towards the doorway, but stopped when he heard Roger’s voice.

“Wait,” he bit his lip, standing up. “Heads up about what?”

His heart was telling him not to believe anything that was about to come out of Paul’s mouth, but his heart was in pain and missing affection. He was tired of being left out of everything, tired of not being taken seriously. He was just tired of feeling less than everyone else.

Paul gave a shrug. “Brian was telling Freddie how he was thinking about breaking up with you.”

“W-What?”

“I’m sorry, Roger… I know we’ve had our differences, but it really does pain me to see two men call things off, unable to work out their differences,” Paul’s face softened, no longer appearing ingenuine. “I heard Brian tell him how he was getting tired of arguing with you all the time, stopping you from fighting myself and others… he said how he felt helpless whenever you walked the house at night. I’m just telling you what he told Fred.”

Roger wet his lips, taking a sharp breath as he felt tears start to fill his eyes. He looked away. “Did he say anything else?”

“I don’t know… I’m not sure if I should say anything else.”

Roger looked back at the other man. “I want to know. What else did he say to him about me? I have the right to know.”

Paul looked unsure at first, before he gave a nod. “Brian was saying how he wasn’t sure how else to help you, and he said how he felt like things had shifted between the two of you and perhaps it would be better if both of you moved on, found someone else.”

_Both of you._

_That meant Brian wanted someone else too._

Even though Roger could see himself with John, and maybe it was a good opportunity, he still felt hurt that Brian wanted to be with someone else. He wouldn’t have ever known this if it hadn’t been for Paul.

“W-Why didn’t Brian tell me this himself?” Roger asked, trying to stay strong emotionally in front of Paul Prenter.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Paul asked, shrugging before he placed a hand on Roger’s shoulder. “He didn’t want to hurt you. He was saying how he still loves you, but it was time to move on. I’m sorry, Roger.”

If this were any other time, the blonde would shove the other man away, wince from his touch or shrug his hand off, but Roger could barely feel any part of himself right now. He felt a tight knot in his chest, and the overwhelming urge to run. Right now, it felt easier to believe every word that Paul said to him, feeling like they could be right.

It was too early to wake Brian up, because he knew he wouldn’t be able to control himself if he did wake him up. He was afraid he might punch him, and that was the last thing that Roger truly wanted to do.

He didn’t want to hurt anyone.

Roger swallowed the lump in his throat and looked at Paul. “Tell them that I went to London, and I’ll be back in a few days.”

Paul had questions in his eyes, but he just nodded.

The drummer turned away from him and walked down into the laundry room. He didn’t want to wake Brian up by searching for clothes; he knew there were clean ones in the dryer, and he figured he’d just grab the first ones he found.

He found a bag there as well. He got dressed right there in the laundry room before he shoved an extra set of clothes into the bag and zipped it up. He quickly grabbed a notepad and wrote John a note:

_John, don’t worry. This isn’t about you. I’ll be back in a couple days. Love, Rog._

He shoved it under John’s door quietly before he called the local cab service and hurried outside just as it pulled up. He ordered the cab driver to take him the train station.

**……….. … ………**

Roger arrived in London by seven that morning, and he began walking in the rain, beginning to search for Tim’s flat that he knew was close by.

He was still lost in his thoughts about what Paul had told him that he barely even felt his empty stomach, or his wet clothes; he felt like he was full of hurt and it was numbing everything else he was feeling. By the time he arrived at Tim’s flat, he was drenched.

He didn’t feel the cold, though, as he knocked on the door. A few moments later, he was met with Tim. The former singer looked more than surprised to see him.

“Roger…” his brows knitted as he ran a hand through his long hair. “Wow. You’re here.”

It was now that the drummer realized that it would have been smart if he had called Tim first to let him know. “I-I’m sorry,” he apologized, looking down now. “I didn’t know what else to do. I just… needed to get away from the farm...”

He sound pathetic. He wouldn’t have blamed Tim if the man shut the door in his face.

“No, it’s fine, Roger. Really,” he nodded, now standing off to the side. “Please, come on in, mate. It’s pouring outside. Come in and make yourself comfortable. I’ll make us some tea.”

“Cheers,” Roger nodded, hurrying inside, and started to look around. The flat was about the size of the flat they had shared not too far away. “Do you live here by yourself?”

Tim looked up at him as he turned the fire on under the kettle, grabbing two cups. “Hm? Oh, I technically have a roommate, but he’s in uni for the next week, living with his boyfriend. He’ll be back here next week.”

Roger’s brows rose in amazement. “Boyfriend? So… you’re living with a homosexual,” he affirmed, partially testing him.

Tim chuckled, understanding the shock now. He gave a nod from the kitchen. “Right. Ironic, eh? Anyway, I’ve buried all my prejudices. I’m not like that anymore.”

“Right,” Roger nodded. “I know.” He walked towards the kitchen and sat down at the table.

They were quiet until Tim made them both cups of tea and then set Roger’s in front of him before he sat down beside the drummer with his own tea. Roger was still soaked, but Tim didn’t seem bothered that he was getting anything wet.

“Do the others know you’re here?” 

Roger sighed tiredly and shook his head. “Just Paul.”

“Paul?”

Roger shook his head. “He’s uhh… Freddie’s boyfriend. I told him to tell the others I was in London. I didn’t say I would be here with you, though.”

Tim gave a smirk. “You don’t think Brian will report you missing?”

He looked down at his hands on the table. He didn’t want to be reminded about the guitarist, his heart still hurting. “I don’t think so. We’re having… problems. Anyway, he’ll assume that I came here to see you anyway. I think he’s jealous that I’m friends with you.”

Tim searched Roger’s face before he ran a hand over his face, taking all of this in. “Jesus, Rog. So… do you need help or anything? I mean, your blackouts, yeah? Do you need medication or anything while you’re here?”

Roger shrugged. “I have medication for my anxiety, but it’s back at the farm. I can do without them.”

Tim looked a mixture of skeptical and worried, taking a sip of his tea. “Are you sure? The last time you had a blackout, you hurt me. I’m not… trying to make you feel guilty or anything. I just meant that it would obviously be better to be able to stop it in its tracks before it happened.”

Roger shrugged again. “It doesn’t really matter. I don’t have it with me so… if it’s going to happen, then I just have to deal with it. If I feel it coming on, then just… lock me in a closet or something until it’s over. I don’t know.”

Tim chewed on his bottom lip. “I don’t want you to hurt yourself, mate. I might have to take you to hospital.”

“No,” Roger spoke, shaking his head right away. “No more hospitals.”

Tim was looking conflicted, but he nodded, sighing softly. “You know that you’re welcome here, but I have work tomorrow so you’ll be alone here for most of the day. Is that all right?”

Roger gave a nod before sipping his own tea. “Yeah, it’s fine.” He was secretly grateful for the silence tomorrow would bring. He’d be lonely, he knew, but it’d be nice not listening to Freddie or Brian criticize him for a whole day.

“Then feel free to make yourself at home. Take a hot shower, eat whatever you want. Just… be careful, yeah? I’m not as familiar with your anxiety or blackouts as Brian is so… I’m not really sure how to help you or what to do if something happens.”

Roger nodded. “I know. Don’t worry. I’ll try to suffer privately if something happens. I’ll lock myself in the bathroom or something.”

Tim visibly tensed and he shook his head. “No,” he pleaded softly. “Look, I know you can’t help it if something happens, but all I ask is that you tell me how to help you, okay? Just… let me know what you need, and I’ll do whatever I can. You’re my friend, Rog, and I don’t want to see you suffer in silence. I want to help you, and I will as much as I can.”

Roger relaxed some now and gave a small smile. “Thanks.”

“Sure thing.” Tim smiled back and the two men sipped their tea.

Roger fell quiet now as he thought about what he was already dreaded going back to. Once they had finished their tea, Tim was kind enough to pour them both a second cup, feeling like this was a two cups of tea situation.

He sat down beside the drummer. “So why can’t you just… do what you did with me with Paul?” It was a gentle question as Tim asked it with curiosity and without malice.

Roger set his tea down and took out a cigarette from his pack and lit it. He took a drag from it before looking over at his friend. “I can’t. Paul’s not part of the band, he’s… working with the record company and Freddie’s boyfriend. If I want him out of the way, I’d have to kill him, and Fred might take issue with that.”

Tim chuckled softly, nodding in agreement. “Is there anyway you can make nice with this bloke?”

Roger shook his head and took another drag before he exhaled heavily. “I don’t think so. He tries to turn Freddie and Brian against me. Half the time Brian doesn’t believe what he says, but then he does believe him the other half of the time, and of course Freddie’s is _always_ on Paul’s side. Oh, and not only that, but he also tells Paul everything that I do or say later on.”

Tim listened patiently, sipping his tea before he lit a cigarette. “So what made you decide to come here? Don’t get me wrong, you’re welcome to stay here as long as you want, mate, but I just wondered.”

Roger took another drink of tea and chewed on his bottom lip, remembering his earlier conversation he had had with Paul. “Prenter told me how Brian was thinking of breaking up with me because… he can’t handle me anymore. He said that Freddie was talking to Bri and he told Fred how it was too much for him to take.”

He saw Tim scrunch his brows in suspicion. “Are you sure this isn’t Paul just fucking with you, mate? You told me how Paul’s always messing with you and turning the others against you… what if this is him turning you against them?”

Roger shrugged and then shook his head. “I mean, maybe, but… Brian never signed up for this. He knew about my blackouts and everything but… it sounds like something that he might say to Freddie. I don’t blame him for wanting to end things. Anyway, I sort of… shagged John earlier before this conversation with Paul.”

Tim ran a hand through his hair, trying to take all of this in. His patience with Roger never dissipated, though. He set his tea down on the coffee table and leaned forward, turning his full attention to Roger with calm eyes.

“I don’t fault you for shagging your ex, Roger,” he replied. “It sounds like you and Brian are distant right now, and I think I’d do the same thing in your position, to be honest. I think… you should confront Brian about this supposed conversation he had with Freddie, just to make sure it’s actually true. Figure out what Brian wants, and go from there. I would just take what Paul said with a grain of very fine salt.”

Roger let out a sigh of relief, feeling better about getting advice on what to do next. He gave a nod. “Thanks, mate,” he nodded appreciatively. “My head’s all clouded right now and I can barely think straight.”

Tim gave a small smile and then took a drag from his cigarette. “You can take his bed as long as you’re staying here. He’s pretty easygoing so don’t worry about anything. Help yourself to anything, shower, whatever. I think it’d be a good idea to call Brian too, but… it’s totally up to you.”

He stood up and took their tea cups into the kitchen.

Roger finished his cigarette and snubbed it out in the ashtray before he stood up and ran his hands through his hair. He could use a shower, but he felt too tired to take one right now. It was late still, or rather too early, so he decided to head to bed.

He made himself comfortable in Tim’s roommate’s bed. The room smelled thickly of marijuana, but he didn’t mind. The bed was comfy, and he actually felt sleepy from his journey and his confessions. He’d call Brian later that day; right now, he just wanted to escape from the world for a few hours.

Roger closed his eyes, thinking not of Brian tonight, but of John, and how nice their earlier encounter had been. It felt nice to feel loved, and needed.

_Desired._

He found himself missing John’s smell, his grip on him, his voice. He missed _him._

Then a tsunamic wave of guilt crashed over him repeatedly. Roger shouldn’t miss John. He should miss his boyfriend, Brian. He should miss the man who stayed with him for so long even after Roger had gone through what he had with James and Liam, as well as Tim.

He should miss the man who bailed him out of jail.

The more he thought about all these things, Roger could feel hot tears in his eyes from the overwhelming pressure of guilt. He rolled over onto his side and curled into himself, _despising_ himself with every fiber of his being now.

He really was worthless.


	6. home

**. . .**

_He could feel hands all over him._

_They were rubbing his shoulders, moving down to his waist before they undid his belt. Roger could feel their hot breath on his bare skin._

_They were James’ hands._

_James’ ands were all over his skin. He felt his nails graze it, first lightly, then harder._

Roger woke up with a gasp now, his heart pounding in his chest. He frantically looked around the darkened room but let out a sigh of relief when he didn’t see James, and saw that his clothes were still on. He sat up and rubbed his face tiredly.

He thought his impromptu visit here would be a home away from the farm, but it felt like limbo. Roger hadn’t spent much time with Tim, or at least not enough for them to get closer. He felt like he was staying at a stranger’s house, albeit a nice stranger.

One he knew he could trust.

He knew where he belonged, and it wasn’t here with Tim in London.

_What the hell was he doing?_

He was in the middle of making a record. No, Queen was in the middle of making a record together, and they only had two songs on paper, and the blueprint of another song partially done. Roger felt lost though. He couldn’t be around Freddie, or Paul.

Or Brian, who wanted to break up with him.

He had basically cheated on him with John since the former didn’t know about Roger’s recent feelings towards the former. Polygamy wasn’t new with any of them, but they made it a point to discuss things before any of them actually slept with anyone else.

_Fuck, he was fucking scum._

He didn’t even realize he had been crying until he head the phone in the house ring, making him jump. He felt a warmness running down his cheeks and he quickly wiped them away. Then a knock at the door and he saw a half-naked Tim peek his head inside.

“Hey, man. Brian’s on the phone for you, mate.”

Roger nodded, only feeling partially relieved. Mostly, he just felt bitter ad angry at the guitarist and wanted to give him a piece of his mind. He sniffed and headed out of the bedroom before he found the phone face down on the table.

Tim gave him a small smile before he walked into the bathroom and closed the door.

Roger picked it up. “How did you know where to call?”

 _“Tim’s pretty much your only friend besides us, so I figured you’d be there,”_ Brian replied. His voice sounded tired, bordering on impatient. _“What are you doing, Rog? Come back home.”_

The drummer sighed heavily and looked down. “I can’t. Not with Paul there –ʺ

 _“Fuck Paul,”_ Brian declared now, but he said in a hushed whisper, which meant that Paul Prenter was somewhere nearby. _“Forget him. We need you. I need you.”_

Roger remembered his conversation last night. He had taken it with a grain of salt, but Brian’s exhausted tone was thick and heavy. Usually when he talked to Roger, there was also love in his voice, but somewhere along the line, that had disappeared.

“Do you, though?”

A pause. _“Do I what?”_

“Do you need me, Bri?” Roger didn’t feel like waiting for his answer. His anger was starting to spill over. “From what Paul told me, it seems like you’re sick of me. He told me that you were thinking of breaking up with me.”

Another pause. _“Just… come back, and we can discuss it properly, yeah?”_

“Wait,” Roger chewed on his lips. “It’s true? You really were planning on calling it off? Paul was right?”

Brian’s moments of silence were getting increasing longer, which only seemed to add to his guilt. _“I don’t know everything Paul told you, Rog, but if you come back, we can sort everything out together,”_

Roger felt tears in his eyes. He felt the urge to shove it in Brian’s face how he had slept with John, but he held it back. He clenched and unclenched his jaw.

 _“We have a lot to talk about, it seems, Rog,”_ Brian said gently. _“Just… please, come back and we’ll discuss everything. I promise. We’ll make things better, in a way that works for everyone. I just want you to be safe at home with us. That’s all I want right now.”_

The drummer swallowed back a sob but then took a deep, shaky breath. He was always a sucker for Brian when he wasn’t being so strict with him. It made him miss him.

“All right. I’ll be back before noon.”

 _“We’ll see you soon, then.”_ Brian was quiet for a long time before he hung up. He must had been deciding whether or not to tell Roger he loved him, like he usually did before they hung up.

Roger hung up and poured himself some coffee Tim had made for them earlier. He took out a cigarette and placed it between his lips before lighting it and went back to his room to smoke and drink while he got dressed.

Once the drummer had gotten his pants and a t-shirt on, he saw Tim by the door, gently knocking as he held a lit joint between his thumb and index fingers. He chuckled. “I thought you had work today.”

He smirked and shook his head. “I don’t work on the weekend. Are you leaving so soon?”

Roger took a drag from his cigarette. “Yeah, I think I’m going to head back soon. Thanks, Tim, for letting me crash here last night.”

“Yeah, anytime, mate.” Tim gave a nod and took a hit off his joint. “Take care of yourself, yeah? You’re welcome back here anytime. Oh, do you need money for a cab or anything?” He took out a pocketful of change.

“No, I’m all set. Cheers.” Roger walked over to him and gave him a short hug before he grabbed his bag and slung it over his shoulder. He nodded in thanks again before he hailed a cab back to the farm.

  
  
**……. …… ……….**

He arrived back just before eleven and he immediately took his bag back upstairs where he saw Brian waiting for him, nervousness etched on his face. Roger was half surprised his clothes weren’t on the floor, but then realized that Brian’s clothes weren’t in the closet.

He searched his face in confusion. “Where’s all your clothes?”

“John told me about… you guys.”

Roger swallowed hard and he bit his lip. “Oh. What exactly did he tell you?”

Brian sat down on the bed and he motioned for the drummer to sit down beside him. Once he did, the other man began talking again. “He told me about his feelings for you, and how you felt the same towards him. He told me how… you two… slept together after the whole ordeal with your car song.”

“Oh,” Roger repeated. He could feel his face turning red, from either embarrassment or shame, he wasn’t sure. He ran his hands through his hair, knowing that this probably looked pretty bad from Brian’s point of view.

He wanted to still be angry, but he was smart enough to realize that Roger himself also had no leg to stand on at the moment.

“Come on, Roger,” the guitarist nearly pleaded. “Please say something other than ‘oh.’ We need to talk about this. Did you ‘make love’ to him, or… was it just a… casual…maybe ‘I’m upset’ fuck?”

Roger chewed on his bottom lip anxiously, wishing now that he had taken his meds properly. “A little bit of both, I guess.”

Brian gave a nod, but the drummer could tell he was also hurt. “Were you planning on breaking up with me, or did you want to have both of us at the same time, like before?” His voice wasn’t judgmental as he asked this question.

“I’m not sure,” Roger answered honestly. “When were _you_ planning on breaking up with _me_?”

Brian let out a soft sigh, rubbing the bridge of his nose. Neither man wanted to have this conversation but both men knew that it was a conversation they had to have.

“I wanted to talk things out with you first, see where we stood, and go from there.”

Roger looked down at his hands from his place on the bed. “So where do we stand then?”

Brian glanced over at him. “I feel like… things haven’t been right between us since we moved here,” he explained. “I feel like something’s broken, and I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t know how to help you, Roger… with your anxiety, your attacks, your blackouts… I love you, but I don’t know how to fix any of this anymore. I just get… so frustrated sometimes when you don’t take your medication properly or… you don’t tell me when something is wrong.”

It seemed to all come pouring out of the older man now. but Roger didn’t mind; he preferred it like this than a long, drawn out conversation where they were both tiptoeing around each other.

“I feel sort of the same way you do,” Roger admitted. “I get frustrated because I can’t explain what’s going on in my head half the time, and I know you get impatient with me about all of it sometimes. I don’t know… I guess… I just found comfort in him, and… I love him again, Bri. I’ve always loved him, but it’s sort of been…” he trailed off now, unable to find his words.

“It’s been background noise because of us,” Brian finished for him. He saw Roger turn to him and nod, surprised. “I feel like that’s how your love for me has been a lot of the time. We’re busy doing this album and it hasn’t been easy because of you and Paul, and… everything’s just a lot right now. Things are tense.”

“Yeah,” Roger gave a nod, sighing.

“I think we should try different sleeping arrangements, Rog. That’s why I moved my clothes into John’s room while you were gone. I already discussed this with him, but I figured it makes more sense if he sleeps in our bed, since it’s bigger than his.”

The drummer swallowed the lump in his throat. “You’re… all right with this, then? Deaky and I, I mean?”

“Yes, Roger,” Brian gave a weak smile, nodding. “I’m a bit hurt, but I understand. I’m not going to hold anything against you because I know this is partially my fault as well. I think… if he can help you in ways I can’t, then it’s better. I’m not sure how he wants to do things, but… if you’re open to it, I’m still open to the idea of seeing you, Roger. I mean… making love with you. If he’s not all right with it, then I’m also okay with that too.”

Roger searched Brian’s eyes. “Making love, but… not being with you, as in what we were before?”

“Right,” Brian nodded. “Sex, without certain strings. I still love you, and I’ll still come when you call me to get you, no matter what time of day it is, but… for all intents and purposes, you’re with John now.”

Roger nodded in understanding and he felt like a weight was lifted off of him. His anxiety wasn’t as bad as it had been before, and he felt like he could breathe. Then the guilt came back to him again just as quickly.

“Right,” he nodded. “Does anyone else know about this?”

Brian shook his head. “Just John,” he replied, shrugging. “I’m sure that Paul and Freddie will figure things out fairly soon with the different sleeping arrangements. We can’t really help that, though. Look, I know I’m asking a lot from you and I have no right to, but… will you please try to make nice with Paul? Just until this album gets made, and then you can have him if you like. I know this time it was because of me, but we can’t have you running off all the time because you and Paul don’t get on.”

“To be fair, the guy’s a prick.”

“To be fair, so are you,” Brian chuckled, smirking teasingly. Roger also started laughing before he nodded.

“Fair enough.”

Brian gave him a small smile before he grabbed a couple more of his own belongings and looked at his ex-boyfriend. “Your pills are in the drawer beside the bed if you’re looking for them. I was trying to tidy up a bit for John. If you can’t find anything else, just let me know.”

Roger nodded and then bit his lip, standing up as well, feeling nervous. “I’m sorry, Bri.”

The guitarist shrugged but there was a heaviness in his eyes. “These things happen, Rog. Like I said, this is my fault. I’m just not the right person to be with you right now, I believe. I really think that John can help you more than me, and… I am sorry for that, too. We’ve been through a lot, Roger… and before, I felt like I could take on anything that came at us, you know? I think it’s just… added up and piled on until it was too much for me, but that isn’t your fault. I don’t blame you for any of it. I know it wasn’t your fault those things happened to you because you didn’t deserve it.”

Roger let out a soft sigh and nodded in acknowledgement, feeling relieved that Brian felt that way. All this time he had felt like it _had_ been his fault, and that Brian _did_ blame him for it, but this conversation was one that he was glad to have had.

“Thank you, Bri.”

Brian sauntered over to him now and wrapped his arms around Roger in a hug and the drummer hugged him back. After a moment, the older man let go of him and smiled.

“I still care about you, Rog, so much.”

Roger smiled. “I care about you too. Thanks for understanding about this.”

Brian gently clapped him on the shoulder and squeezed it affectionately before he walked downstairs. Roger lay on the bed for five minutes before he fell asleep, not having slept well at Tim’s flat. When he woke up, he saw John quietly placing his clothes in the closet, and smiled to himself.

“Hey, Deaky…” he greeted.

The bassist turned around, wide-eyed in surprise. “Oh, hey. I didn’t wake you, did I? I was trying to be quiet.”

“No, you were fine,” Roger smiled lovingly. “I feel like I’ve been falling asleep all the time but it’s never at night. I don’t know how I fell asleep last night.”

“You had a stressful day,” John shrugged, going over and sitting on the bed. “Brian told me about your conversation with him. How do you feel about all of it?”

Roger rubbed his eyes sleepily. “All right. I was worried what he’d say about us, but I’m surprised he’s being so cool about it. Do you think he slept with someone else too?”

John shook his head, gently leaning against him. “No, I don’t think so. He loves you, and I don’t think he’d want to hurt you by bringing someone you didn’t know into the mix. At least he knows me and trusts me with you. I think it’d be a lot harder for him to just sleep with a stranger.”

Roger nodded in agreement. “Yeah, true. Do you have everything in here already?”

“Yeah, pretty much. Just my bass that’s still in the studio.”

Roger yawned. “What time is it?”

“About six. Freddie told me to tell you that dinner’s almost ready. He said Paul will be on his best behavior as long as you’re on yours.”

Roger sighed, rolling his eyes. “Paul always starts it! He purposely antagonizes me to get me in trouble! That prick has it in for me.”

John chuckled. “If he gets to be too much, we’ll eat up here together. How does that sound?”

“That sounds nice, Deaky.” Roger grinned and then stood up before helping John off the bed as well. He lead both of them down into the kitchen and sat down beside Brian and Paul. Freddie was on the other side of the island putting everything on plates.

“Ah Roger and John! You both are just in time for my wonderful dinner, darlings. I’ve made some of the hottest curry my dear mother has made and some Chapati bread!”

He placed plates in front of everyone before he grabbed another stool and sat across from all of them. Paul moved his stool to sit beside Freddie, of course.

Roger stared to eat cautiously, scooping a small amount of curry onto his spoon before he ate it. He let out a shriek now and looked around frantically, waving at his mouth. “Hot! H-Hot!”

John ran towards the fridge to find relief for the drummer.

“Well, darling, that’s why I also added some bread!” Freddie explained to him. “The bread’s there to go with the spices, but at the same time, it helps a bit to tame them. Honestly, it’s like you’ve never eaten Indian food before!”

Roger ignored them, coughing. Then, John hurried over and held out a glass of milk to him. Roger looked at it in disbelief.

“It’ll help with the spice!” John insisted patiently, smirking. “Really, it’ll help. Try it, Rog.”

Roger gingerly sipped the milk, and when he found relief, he drank more of it.

“We’re always open to your homemade food, Freddie,” John nodded, “but you should tone it down a bit for the rest of us who aren’t used to spicy food.”

“Oh, fine!” Freddie threw a hand in the air dramatically before he looked at Roger. “I do apologize, darling. I guess I just don’t know how spicy it’s going to be for others until it’s too late.”

“I think it’s perfect, Freddie,” Paul interjected, a smug smile on his face.

Roger cleared his throat and ignored him as he looked at the singer. “It’s good, Fred, just… _really_ spicy.” He laughed, fanning his mouth as if that would help anything.

Freddie smiled brightly at him before he looked over at Paul and also giving him a loving smile. “Thank you, dear.”

They all ate together in a relative peace until Paul had to ruin things.

“So when are you going to do your guitar solo for Bohemian Rhapsody, Brian?” Paul asked almost snidely. “It’s been almost a month now, hasn’t it?”

Brian sighed to himself. “Don’t remind me. I’m up for doing it whenever Fred wants. It’s just been a bit hectic, hasn’t it?”

Freddie clapped his hands together. “Oh, excellent, we can work on it tomorrow, then!”

Roger chuckled softly when he saw the look of dread on Brian’s face. It wasn’t that Paul harassing him to record was funny, but just that Brian wasn’t looking forward to doing his solo several thousand times in a row. He knew that he enjoyed writing his part, but it was Freddie’s constant repetition that drove them all on the brink of insanity.

“Sure,” the guitarist reluctantly obliged. “Sounds good, Fred.”

“Excellent,” Freddie smiled, using his bread to scoop up some of the curry.

“How about you, Roger? Are you looking forward to your parts in the song as well?” Paul asked now, looking over at the drummer eagerly.

“What?” Roger asked now, having no idea what Paul was talking about.

Freddie shushed Paul now and shook his head. “Not now, dear. Just let him enjoy his meal. We can talk business tomorrow.”

“What parts?” Roger asked again, looking from Freddie to John to Brian.

They were a bit quiet before John cleared his throat. “Freddie shared the lyrics with the rest of us while you were at Tim’s. He wanted our opinion on it, and… there’s parts of it where all of us sing,” John rambled. “but there’s some parts that he’d also like you to sing, by yourself.”

“Oh, all right.” Roger shrugged, not seeing any issue with it. He’s sung solo parts before in other songs. This one didn’t seem like such a big deal.

The men all looked at each other but decided not to jinx Roger’s easiness about it so they just continued to eat, figuring (and fearing) that Roger would find out about it tomorrow. John and Brian exchanged apprehensive looks to each other before they chuckled silently, already aware of what was to come.


	7. love is blindness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just basically lots of fluff and domestic bliss haha. enjoy!

**. . .**

“ _Galileo! Galileo, figaro!”_ Roger sang just as he heard the parts of the other men sing after his, and then heard the clicking of the recording as Freddie stopped it. “How was that?”

He looked into the other room across from him where the others were sitting, and then heard John speak next.

“Can you go a bit higher?” It was a polite enough request, but Roger was starting to lose his patience with this song. They had each done their parts over and over and over again for the past five hours and the drummer was dying for a smoke break.

“If I go any higher, only dogs will hear me!”

He heard Freddie’s voice faintly. “Try.” It was more of a demand than a request, and Roger just _knew_ that Paul had to be smiling that dumb fucking smug smile of his seeing Roger being tortured like this.

“Freddie’s note, sorry,” John apologized.

Roger sighed heavily, about to protest again, but something in the younger man’s voice relaxed him enough to try again. “Go on, roll the tape.”

He heard the beginning of their collective part again of the others’ voices on top of each other, and then started to sing his part again, going a bit higher this time. “ _Galileo! Galileo! Galileo figaro!”_ Upon hearing Freddie stop recording again, he looked at them. “How was that? Better?”

“Higher,” came Freddie’s answer, obviously unhappy.

Roger then saw Brian’s hand motion the ‘higher’ signal, and Roger knew he was doing it just agitate the drummer a bit more. “Jesus, how many more ‘Galileo’s’ do you want?” He asked now, frustration clear in his voice as he no longer attempted to hide it.

Then came John’s calm voice again. “Freddie wants to do a few more overdubs.”

Roger puffed his chest out. “Do we even have any tape left?”

“I do have to say,” John remarked cautiously. “The tape is wearing out. It can’t take much more.”

Roger scratched his head and sighed to himself, hearing a few moments of silence before he heard the studio engineer mark the number of takes it’s been right before starting over the previous part again. Roger repeated his parts over and over again, at least fifteen times, trying to go higher every time.

His throat was starting to hurt him now and finally he was getting so annoyed that he started to purposely ask stupid questions.

“Who even is Galileo?”

His question went unanswered though as John ordered him to sing it again. On what had to be the fiftieth take of it, Roger finally complained again.

“My nuts feel like they’re in my chest right now. Are we done?” He asked in annoyance, about to throw down with Freddie right there if the singer made him do it one more time.

Finally, he heard John speak once more. “That’s it,” he declared. “He loves you.”

The drummer knew he wasn’t done quite yet though. He kept the octave of his galileo’s from before and sang again when he heard the next part. “ _He’s just a poor boy, from a poor family. Spare him this life, from this monstrosity!”_

“That’s it,” he heard Freddie clap in satisfaction. “I love it.”

Roger felt overwhelming relief now and stood with his hands on his hips. “Can we break now? I need a cigarette or else I’m going to fucking explode.”

“No,” Freddie announced. “No breaks until this part is over. We still have to do it with all of us.”

Roger let out a growl but threw his arms up in the air, knowing he didn’t have a choice as long as Freddie was in charge. He rubbed his face but then nodded and waited until the others came around to him and they sang the verse before Brian’s guitar solo, all of them forgetting their physical gripes after they had finished singing their parts and started to get into the music.

John was first one to hit the backboard as they jumped, and then Freddie reached out to grab him to stop him from falling, but then ending up falling himself. It was a domino effect after that, Roger almost fell and saw Brian reach out faintly to catch him but was too reoccupied playfully laughing at Fred and John, which was fine honestly because the drummer was able to catch himself anyway.

Everyone was exhausted, but they all agreed that they had come this far in making the song so they should just finish it up and relax for a little bit. Once Freddie had sang his last part, Roger practically threw down his headphones in relief and grabbed his cigarettes.

“Wait up,” John urged. “I’ll come with you.” He followed Roger out of the recording studio and both men went outside.

Roger wasted no time in lighting a cigarette and held one out for John who gratefully took it, placing it between his lips before leaning in and let Roger light it for him.

The set was setting in the distance and the drummer let out a tired sigh.

“All right, Rog?”

He gave a small smile to John and nodded. “Yeah, I’m okay. My throat is just… bloody killing me.”

“Oh, well… smoking should definitely help with that,” John replied sarcastically, smirking right after. Roger chuckled and rolled his eyes, gently bumping his shoulder against the younger man’s.

They smoked in an equally exhausted state of silence and once they were done, they decided to go into the living room and watch a movie.

“I’ll make some tea for us,” John offered, already making a beeline into the open kitchen as he filled the kettle.

Roger didn’t want to be alone, so he followed John in and leaned against the counter, smiling lovingly at the bassist. “I thought I was going to go mad in there earlier. Nothing’s ever good enough for Freddie.”

John gave a weak chuckle and shrugged. “Freddie’s just a perfectionist. He wants this album to be perfect. I thought you sounded great the first time, though.”

Roger smiled again and waited until John had grabbed two mugs for them and put the teabags inside before he wrapped his arms around him, holding him close. There wasn’t a huge height difference between them, not like there had been with Roger and Brian; John was able to comfortable rest his back against Roger’s chest as he held him.

“I’m proud of you know, you know,” John added softly. “For keeping calm when I could tell you wanted to tell Freddie and the rest of us to fuck off. You kept your cool, and we were able to get it all done.”

Roger knew he was blushing slightly, feeling warm. He shook his head but was grinning. “I just wanted to get it done,” he chuckled. “I didn’t think I could stand anymore of the bloody song. I’m already sick of it.”

John laughed now and turned around to face Roger. “Pity, that’s a pretty long song we’ll have to play live a lot. I bet Brian will tire of playing his guitar solo if anything.”

“What about me?” Roger asked, playfully hurt. “I’m the one who has to sing all those bloody high parts!”

John hugged him. “Don’t worry. We’ll make sure you have plenty of tea afterwards to help your throat,” he assured him gently. Roger buried his face in John’s shoulder but both men nearly jumped upon hearing the screaming of the kettle some minutes later.

John released him and make them both tea before carrying the cups into the living room and flipping through the channels until he stopped on a biography movie called _Galileo._ He looked at Roger with a shit eating smirk on his face now, but the drummer instantly shook his head.

“No, no way. If I even hear Galileo mentioned again, I’m going to kick a hole through this bloody TV.”

John chuckled and continued to flip through, finally settling on _Monty Python and the Holy Grail_. Roger and John grabbed pillows and got comfortable on the floor against each other, sipping their tea. They were halfway through the movie when John suddenly stood up.

Roger looked up. “Hey, where you going, Deaky?”

“Hang on, I’ll be right back,” he disappeared from the room but came back five minutes later as promised. He sat back down and gently grabbed Roger’s hand before spilling two white pills into his palm. “Here, it’s a good time to take them, I think. You’ll be able to relax.”

Roger was already relaxed just being with John, but he knew what the bassist actually meant was that he’d be able to sleep through the night. He nodded and swallowed them down with his lukewarm tea now. He hadn’t expected them to work so quickly; the movie hadn’t even finished yet before he found it difficult to keep his eyes open any longer, falling asleep with his head on John’s lap.

  
**……. …. ……….**

**  
** When he woke up again, he felt alarmed, not recognizing where he was at first. He blinked and rubbed his eyes before he groaned tiredly. Then he looked over and saw John laying next to him, the younger man’s calloused hand in Roger’s, holding it as if they were otters on their backs in the water.

Despite his grogginess, Roger smiled and gently caressed John’s hand. He looked over and saw that someone had turned off the TV at some point during the night. He didn’t want to leave John, but he needed his morning cigarette and coffee.

Roger reluctantly let go of his hand and forced himself up off the floor, cringing a little at his achiness that his muscles were feeling from laying on a hard surface. He ignored the pain as he started the coffee and lit a cigarette for himself.

“How’d you sleep last night, Rog?” a voice behind him.

He turned around to see Brian and he nodded, giving him a tired smile. “Good, well, besides feeling a bit groggy still. I don’t feel as terrible as I did before when I took it. It helped me sleep.”

Brian gave a nod of approval and grabbed some bread before popping it down in the toaster. “Good, then it’s working,” Roger nodded and there were several minutes of awkward silence between them as Roger poured coffee for both of them.

Brian watched him with almost sad eyes as he took his cup. “How are you and John doing?”

Roger knew what he meant; _how are you and John doing now that we’re broken up and you guys are together again?_ They were words that the guitarist did not need to say, but it hung thick in the air and it only added to Roger’s anxiety.

“We’re good,” Roger nodded, taking a sip of his coffee before he turned around and poured a cup for John. He rubbed his eyes and then cleared his still achy throat. “Have… have you found anyone else?” He asked quietly.

It wasn’t that he would be jealous if Brian had; that wasn’t it at all. He just didn’t like that is ex-boyfriend was now alone, without anyone at all to love. Roger knew that had been his doing, or rather undoing, but he couldn’t hide the fact that he was unable, that _they_ were unhappy.

There had been a shift in their dynamic somewhere along the way, and he didn’t want to be left behind.

Brian chuckled lightly at the drummer’s question, no malice involved. “Someone else? How? We’ve been cooped up on this farm making his bloody record that we’ve gone over on making and we’re not even a hundred percent finished yet.”

“Have you wanted to find anyone else?” Roger asked gently, searching the older man’s face.

Brian looked at him with curious eyes, but he shrugged. “I don’t know, Roger,” he said honestly. “If I happen to find someone, then… great, but… I’m not actively looking right now. I’m really happy for you, though, Rog.”

Roger swallowed hard, unsure if he should believe it. “Really?” He took a drag of his cigarette and leaned against the counter.

“Yeah, really,” the other man nodded. “All I’ve ever wanted was for you to be happy, Rog, even if it wasn’t with me. I’m glad it’s at least one of us. John’s a good bloke.”

Roger nodded in agreement, but he was doing his best to hide his eyes. “Yeah, he is.”

Brian took his cup and placed a hand on the blonde’s shoulder before gently squeezing it. “Go ahead and enjoy your morning, Rog. I was going to go write some music anyway. Be aware that Freddie and Paul are awake though, just so you know.”

Roger nodded gratefully. “Right, thanks for the warning.”

Brian left the kitchen and Roger took the coffee back to where John was laying and set it on the table before he snuggled against the younger man, breathing him in and relaxing again. He felt him stir a bit and groan tiredly.

“Mm… what time is it?”

Roger glanced over at the clock. “Almost eleven. I made some coffee for you, Deaky.”

John rubbed his face and yawned, sitting upright now and looked around before he took the cup of coffee and drank some. “Mmm,” he smiled. “Thank you, Roger.”

John leaned against the drummer, unfazed by the small cloud of cigarette smoke around Roger now as he smoked quietly. He felt protected by the blonde, and honestly he didn’t mind. He reached over and took the cigarette gently from Roger’s fingers and took a drag from it as well before handing it back.

“What are our plans for today?”

Roger sighed contently and shrugged, wrapping his arm around the bassist as he leaned against him. “I don’t know if Freddie needs us to record anything else, but if he doesn’t, I was thinking maybe you and I could go into town to the pub for a few drinks, relax.”

John chuckled now. “Knowing Fred, he’ll want to take us to the nearest club instead.”

Roger smirked and shrugged. “He doesn’t have to know where we’re going or when, right? I mean, you and I could just leave whenever and not tell anyone,” then Roger looked away. “I’m not sure if I’m up for going to the club again yet.”

He didn’t want to add, _after what happened to me last time_ , because that just made the drummer think about Tim. 

John nodded. “All right, that’s fine, Rog. We can do whatever, I really don’t care as long as I’m with you.”

The drummer grinned to himself, John’s words warming up his chilled bones as the late fall air came in through the cracks of the house. He leaned in and planted a kiss to John’s neck and felt him shiver. “I don’t mind what we do as long as I’m with you too, Deaks,” he said softly.

“We can walk around then, maybe after we’re done in the pub. The trees are turning, and I’d like to see them, if you don’t mind.”

Roger smiled and shook is head. “I don’t mind at all.”

And the other man meant it; he hadn’t really walked around much with Brian, but he didn’t blame him for that. So much had been happening that the two of them barely ever got a chance to breathe and just _be_ with each other. Things had just begun to pick up for the band and they had so much on their mind.

They cuddled for a bit longer before they heard Freddie and Paul come bounding into the kitchen together, like overexcited dogs looking for their food. Roger glanced over at them, still holding John lovingly in his arms.

“What a lovely morning, isn’t it, darlings?” Freddie asked the room. “What did you feel to doing today?”

John looked up at Roger but the drummer, for once, wasn’t feeling nervous or anxious. “John and I are going to do our own thing today, if we’re finished recording a million Galileos,” Roger answered calmly.

“You’re free to do whatever you want for at least the next week or so. Paul and I haven’t finished writing a few more songs that we want to put on the album. Did you want to go dancing with us?”

Roger and John exchanged looks, the bassist having been correct about Freddie’s need to go dancing. “You two can go. Like I said, John and I are just going to do our own thing.”

“What about Brian? Do you think he’d like to come with us?” Roger heard sounds from Paul in the kitchen that sounded like those of disapproval, like Paul didn’t want Brian to come with them. “What is it, darling? You don’t wish for Brian to join us? He could drive us home, though!”

Finally, Paul spoke. “I’d like it for it to just be us, Freddie,” the Irishman replied. “We can take a cab. We have the money, yeah?”

“Oh, fine,” Freddie shrugged. “We’ll take a cab, then.”

Roger would’ve felt worse for Freddie if the singer didn’t seem to laid back about changing plans. Freddie was a man with a spine, and he knew that he could handle himself if Paul wanted to do something that he didn’t. Freddie was good about letting his thoughts be heard, well and clear.

“What are your plans, Roger?” Paul asked, stepping into the living room with his coffee and watching them.

The drummer looked up at him. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t need to tell you because our plans don’t involve you,” he replied simply.

Paul smirked tightly. “Oh, I know that,” Paul put on an air in his voice now. “I’d just like to know, in case you get into a spot of trouble, Roger. You _do_ have a history of getting into trouble. I think, if anything, it’s a good idea to know where you are in case… trouble does arise.”

Roger was starting to lose his patience with him now. He tongued his cheek and clenched his jaw, wanting nothing more than to punch the fucker out. John seemed like he could sense it because the younger man was the next one to speak.

“It’ll be all right, Paul,” John looked up at him, smiling. “I’ll be with him. If there is trouble, Brian will be here. He can help us. You two just enjoy dancing. There’s no need to worry about us.”

Paul nodded and then laughed but there was no humor in his voice. It was more of a frustrated laugh, as if he were upset that he hadn’t been able to upset them. So that was the game he was playing now; he wanted to upset Roger to see what he’d do.

“Paul, darling, let’s go write some more music, shall we? Leave the lovebirds to their nest.” Freddie walked out of the kitchen, but Paul was still standing there, looking down at them.

Roger met his eyes. “You should go. Daddy’s calling,” he replied before he smirked.

Paul narrowed his eyes at Roger before he also walked out without another word, but there was a tenseness left hanging in the room and both men could sense it. It made Roger’s heart race harder now in his chest.

“Do you think he’s purposely trying to pull shit with me because he hates me, John?”

“Oh, I definitely think that’s the case, yes,” John nodded, smirking playfully. “Don’t worry about him, Roger. He’s harmless. He just likes to play mind games with you because he thinks it’s easy to agitate you and set you off. It doesn’t matter though, right? Let’s go get ready for our day together.”

The drummer took a deep breath and nodded before he started to their room but then felt John reach out and grab his hand, causing him to glance back at him hesitantly.

“What is it, Roger?” He asked him softly, searching his boyfriend’s face.

The blonde took another shaky breath, shaking his head. He didn’t want to get into this right now. He didn’t want to ruin their day together. “I just… I don’t want him to be another Tim, you know? I know that he’s… gay too, but… he’s still an arsehole, like Tim was before… and he’s trying to break us apart, just like he did too.”

John gave him a soft smile and gently caressed his hand in his own. “Paul's definitely an arsehole, he’s more than that, but… he’s not like Tim. Tim’s changed, and I believe if he hadn’t, you wouldn’t have felt safe staying at his flat in London. I don’t think Paul can change; he’s too much of a snake and he doesn’t even try to be nice to you, ever.”

“Why doesn’t Fred do anything about it, then?”

John’s eyes turned sad and sympathetic. “Because Freddie loves him, Rog… love can blind certain people, especially someone like Fred. He sees the good in people, and most of the time that’s all he can see when he loves them. Unless… Paul does something to personally hurt him, then, Freddie’ll be blind to whatever he says to you.”

Roger nodded and sighed. “I wish he’d just… leave.”

“Me too,” John nodded and then leaned in and kissed Roger’s lips softly. “Come on, let’s get ready for our day and forget about everyone else.”

He nodded now and let John lead them towards their room to get changed.


	8. catching up

**. . .**

  
They decided to start getting a late lunch at a café, and then opted to walk arm in (cautious) arm together in the park nearby.

“What if someone sees us?” Roger hissed worriedly at John, glancing around at the occasional couples who had the same idea as them.

John gave a reassuring smile. “Then I’ll tell them how you’re terribly dizzy and you’re having difficult standing up by yourself,” he teased lightly. “It’s all right, Roger. There aren’t that many people around, and the ones that are here don’t look young enough to be looking for a fight from either of us.”

This seemed to be put the drummer’s mind at ease a little. He nodded in understanding and shivered against John’s shoulder. “It’s cold.”

John chuckled softly. “That’s usually what happens in autumn; it gets chillier.”

Roger scoffed and gently pushed him, but not hard enough for him to fall over. John laughed warmly. “You’re such a prick,” the blonde spoke with no real venom behind his words.

“You can be too,” the bassist shrugged, going back arm-in-arm with him again. “I guess that’s why we’re so good together.”

Roger smiled and nodded, looking at the trees as the leaves were beginning to change. He had always liked this time of year. Even when things were going to shit in his life, at least he could count on the leaves always changing color and a slight chill to the air. It somehow made things seem less chaotic for him.

They strolled amidst the trees for a little while longer until they both saw a small group of three younger men walking towards them, already laughing when they saw Roger and John intertwined. The both tried to separate themselves before the men made it to them, but they knew it was too late.

The eldest one, who looked to be no older than twenty, stood right in front of them, blocking their way. “I told you fairies come to this park,” he looked back at the other men who chuckled.

“Funny,” Roger remarked, ready for a fight. “The only fairies I see right now are you three.”

The man in front of them took a drag of his cigarette before he blew the smoke in John’s face and smirked, as if he hadn’t even heard Roger. “I bet _you’re_ the bottom.”

Something was set off inside of Roger now. John coughed slightly and waved the smoke away from him. The drummer moved himself in front of his boyfriend, so he was face to face with their agitator.

“You and your arsehole friends can step off now. Fuck off.” Roger could feel a headache start to form and his vision was beginning to go black at the sides, his hands shaking.

“We like this park. I think we’ll stay a little longer,” the man laughed, blowing smoke in Roger’s face now.

Roger suddenly punched the man in the face; he heard the sickening _crack_ of his nose breaking and saw blood running down his face. The other man looked stunned, obviously not having been prepared for a physical fight.

He had been all words, and he hadn’t expected Roger to fight him. He spit out the blood that had run down his throat and hurriedly walked around John and Roger, followed not far by his men, and disappeared.

John turned the drummer towards him and looked at him. “Roger, you didn’t have to do that…”

Roger’s brows furrowed and he looked down at his bruised knuckles before he looked at him. “Of course I had to, Deaky. No one should talk to you like that or treat you like shit. I’m always going to stand up for you, mate.”

John smiled brightly now and placed his hands on Roger’s shoulders. “Did you want to head back home? We can have our date from home.”

Roger felt John’s gentle hands on him, and it seemed to ground him. He took a deep breath, and then another. Soon, the darkness from his vision disappeared, and he could see things normally again. His headache was still slightly there, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as it had been a few minutes ago.

He shook his head. “No, John… I mean, we can if _you_ want to, but… I’m okay now, I think. I’m still up for going to the pub. It’s well past noon now, so we don’t have to feel like alcoholics.”

John chuckled and nodded. “Yeah, drinks sound good right now, actually. Come on, Rog. Let’s take a cab into London and have some drinks there. We can find a place to crash for the night and then come back to the farm tomorrow.”

Roger nodded. “That sounds great.”

The two men took a cab towards London, per the plan, and ended up at a pub called The Blind Beggar around Whitechapel. It was a decent sized placed, but dimly lit. Even the windows didn’t bring in much light from outside.

Neither man seemed bothered by it as they walked further in and grabbed a seat at the bar.

Roger turned to John. “Right, so what would you like?”

“Just a pint, please.”

Roger nodded and ordered both of them two beers. He felt relaxed as he listened to John talk to him. He couldn’t remember a time when he had only _almost_ blacked out while he was angry; he hadn’t ever been able to actually snap out of it like he had earlier. John had unknowingly helped him.

He drank and just let John rant about Paul. He took out a cigarette and lit it before taking a drag, and then finally inserted himself in the conversation.

“Are you jealous, Deaks?” He asked lightly. “Freddie sort of ended things with you a bit abruptly, yeah?”

John shrugged. “I suppose. He was infatuated with Paul. He was new and different, and Freddie just wanted to explore. I can’t really fault him, I mean, look at me, and look at Paul. It’s not a surprise he chose him over me.”

Roger snorted. “Paul isn’t as attractive as you, John.”

“That’s utter bollocks, Rog… you don’t think he’s attractive, at all?” John took a sip of his beer.

Roger shook his head. “He’s not attractive to me, anyway. Do _you_ find him attractive, Deaky?” Roger smirked now, gently nudging him.

John chuckled, shrugging. “I don’t know, maybe? A little bit?”

“Oh my god,” Roger shook his head. “You might need to get your head checked out, Deaks. Anyway, you can’t go by what Freddie likes because he’s into a whole spectrum of men, isn’t he? Look at Paul, right, and then look at that one bloke we saw him flirting with _right_ after you. That bloke had about thirty pounds of muscle on Freddie, and he was tall and everything? He does like his mustaches, though.”

“See, that’s why he doesn’t like me, Rog. No mustache.” John pretended to look hurt, but it was evident that John had gotten over their breakup and moved on.

Roger didn’t want to laugh, because he still hated Paul for brainwashing Freddie to break up with John, so he gave him a sympathetic smile and a shrug instead. He took another drag of his cigarette and nearly jumped when he heard a voice from beside him.

“Mate, can I bum a fag from you?”

Roger glanced over and nearly fell over when he saw Tim. He chuckled and held out a cigarette for the other man and lit it for him. “What the hell are you doing here?” He felt John move a bit closer to him, and took his hand in his own, the earlier incident seemingly no longer in their minds.

“I was on my way back from the college and I just dropped in for a pint,” Tim shrugged with a grin. “I honestly had no idea you guys would be here. What brings you to London? Business or pleasure?”

Roger glanced over at John who was smiling lovingly at the drummer and he couldn’t stop himself from grinning like a weirdo before he looked back over at Tim and leaned in a bit closer so no one else around them could hear him. Tim leaned in halfway.

“We’re sort of… on a date,” he giggled. “We had lunch, then walked in the park, and… we decided to grab a few pints here.”

Tim smiled brightly as he saw the two of them looking silly in love with each other. “That’s fantastic,” he nodded, looking genuinely happy for them. “I’m glad you two are together. You make a fine looking couple.”

Roger smirked. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” Tim took a drag from the cigarette and blew the smoke away from him. “I’m almost envious, actually. I haven’t been able to find a steady person, myself, if I’m honest.”

John chuckled and shook his head. “I find that difficult to believe.”

“No, really,” Tim laughed now at himself. “Don’t get me wrong, mates, I have no problem finding someone to bed down with for the night, yeah? I’m actually looking for a long term thing now, though, and do you think I can find anyone? Everyone’s bloody afraid of commitment.”

Roger chuckled, along with Tim and John. He had only known Tim to have one-night stands. It felt like the world was flipped upside down now that he had become their friend instead of an enemy, and now he was looking for a steady girl. It was funny how things changed.

“Don’t worry,” John spoke. “You’ll find someone. If Roger can stop being a tomcat, then I’m sure you can do too.”

Roger laughed but he gently bumped his elbow against John’s arm. Tim smiled took another drag. “Hey, I don’t want to interrupt your date, so I’ll just find another table, yeah?”

John searched Roger’s face now and gave a shrug to let the drummer know that he didn’t mind if Tim joined them and gave a questioning look to Roger to see if he felt the same. Roger nodded and looked back at the former singer.

“No, wait. Stay, if you want, Tim. It’s all right. Let’s get a booth actually and we can have a couple points together, if you have time,” he invited.

Tim looked apprehensive at first, and looked to John for verification, who nodded and gave a small smile. He also nodded. “All right, as long as you guys don’t mind. Go ahead and find us a booth, I’m just going to grab my pint. Do you two want another?”

“Sure,” John nodded.

“Great, it’s on me,” Tim invited, shoveling out his money, but then Roger stopped him.

He took out his own wallet and slapped down some money on the bar counter. “Don’t worry about it. We have a decent amount nowadays, more than I know what to do with, anyway. It’s on us.”

Tim looked disheartened. “Are you sure? I have a job still, I can afford it.”

Roger shook his head and chuckled. “Just shut up, mate. We’re paying for it, all right?” He gently patted Tim’s shoulder before he and John went to go look for a booth to sit at.

“Good thing Freddie’s not here to see you dish out our money to Tim for drinks. I don’t think he’s forgiven him a hundred percent for everything he’s said and done,” John replied as he sat down next to John.

Roger snorted. “Better to use it for drinks than drugs, right? Freddie’s bought cocaine with our money. I saw it in his room before. It’s no wonder he has all the energy in the world to write songs.”

John sighed and looked at him. “You’ve done it too, though, Rog.”

“Yeah, but I don’t anymore,” he shrugged. “And sometimes that wasn’t always voluntary. James made me take some before. Anyway, I’d rather our money wasn’t used for that shit, Deaky. I didn’t like how I was when I was on it, and neither did Brian. I hardly ever slept.”

“True,” John conceded. “Still, though, drugs aside, he wouldn’t like us hanging out with Tim.”

Roger looked over at John, taking his hand under the table. “It doesn’t matter. We don’t like Paul, but he keeps hanging out with him. Hell, they’re shagging. At least we’re not shagging Tim.”

John chuckled and nodded in agreement, seeing Roger’s point.

Tim came over with three pints for them and sat down across from them. He took a drag from his cigarette before drinking. “Thanks again, Rog, for buying.”

“No problem, mate. What’s your job, same as before?”

Tim ran a hand through his hair and shook his head. “I quit that one. I’m drawing, animating, making models for shows and things like that. It goes hand in hand with my art classes, so it’s interesting.”

“Didn’t make it anywhere in Humpy Bong, then?” Roger teased.

Tim chuckled and shook his head. “Not really, no. We still do small gigs, though. We have a small fanbase, and between gigs and my job, we have enough to split between us.”

Roger then remembered something. “They don’t live with you, though. When I stayed over there before, you said it was just you and a roommate.”

“Right,” Tim nodded, taking another drink. They live together in a flat a few streets over. We… don’t always see eye-to-eye on things so we decided it would be better if I lived separately so we didn’t let it get in the way of playing together.”

“What are they like?” John took a long drink of his beer.

Roger looked over at Tim, wondering if he had actually gone back to his old ways after all.

Tim sighed heavily and shook his head before he gave a humorless chuckle. “They’re actually… how I was before, right? I mean… they don’t like… homosexuals and the like. They’ve openly called them out on being gay, and… it’s just fucking ridiculous. They’ve picked fights with them, and we don’t exactly get along on that front, you now? It makes me realize how horrible I was to all of you before and sometimes, when I think about it, I just… feel sick.”

Tim looked conflicted, in disbelief at his band, disappointed with his past self.

Roger felt John squeeze his hand under the table and Roger gently squeezed his hand back comfortingly. He finished his cigarette and put it out before taking another drink and looked over at Tim. “What’s important is that you aren’t that person anymore. Why don’t you just quit the band, or… fire them and get new people who think the way you do now?”

Tim scoffed and shook his head, but it didn’t seem directed towards Roger’s suggestion, more at the outside world as a whole. “My job doesn’t pay that much alone. The gigs help… and finding new people who think the way I do now is just… impossible. More people than not don’t like gays, and… it’s frustrating. I can’t take the time to look for new people because if I did, I’d wait half my life. Hardly anyone is that accepting of homosexuals right now,”

Roger and John nodded knowingly. Neither one wanted to bring up what had happened in the park earlier, because they knew it wouldn’t change anything. It would simply prove Tim’s point.

“Anyway, enough of such grim talk, mates. Tell me what’s been going on with you two. Roger told me you’re at Ridge Farm? That’s in the fucking arsehole of nowhere, right?”

The change of subject seemed to relax them now. John chuckled and nodded. “Yeah, Freddie wanted us to be somewhere we couldn’t get so distracted like we did when we lived around here. He wanted to be in the country, so… there we are.”

Roger smirked and nodded. “Yeah, it’s horrible. We’re recording songs well enough, I think, but Freddie wants us to do it over and over and over and over again! It’s terrible.”

Tim laughed and smiled. “At least there’s some excitement. Paul seems to be a right prick though, from what Roger tells me.”

John nodded and then waved his hand. “I don’t even want to think about Paul. It’s best not to talk about him anyway. Roger gets pretty angry about him.”

Roger smirked and shrugged helplessly before looking across the table at Tim. “He’s like how you used to be, no offense.”

Tim waved his hand dismissively, understandingly. “None taken.”

“Paul’s manipulative. He’s been trying to turn us against each other,” John explained. “Of course Freddie’s so in love with him that he can’t see how fucking awful Paul is.”

Tim nodded. “That’s usually how it goes. Can you fire him? He’s a record executive, or something, right?”

“Or something,” Roger sighed. “He’s supposed to be helping us with the album but all he ever does is nag us to record songs and remind us of deadlines, and fucks Freddie all day. He acts more like Freddie’s lapdog than anything.”

“Fuck,” Tim shook his head, taking another drink. “That’s rough, mates. At least if you’re forced to kill him, you can bury him somewhere no one else will be able to find him,” he joked.

John’s eyes widened playfully and put his hands over Roger’s ears. “Don’t give him any ideas!”

Roger laughed now and shook the bassist off of him, everyone smiling.

They continued to drink for another hour and a half. The three of them had had about four drinks each, and were feeling more than a bit tipsy.

“I can’t believe I’m almost shitfaced at not even four in the afternoon. I have work in four hours,” Tim complained, laughing. “It’s been great, but I think I’m going to call it here, boys. You two keep having fun, though,” he stood up and dished out some money from his wallet before placing it on the table.

This time, Roger didn’t try to stop him; his mind was getting slightly fuzzy. “Thanks for the chat. It was nice.”

Tim nodded and then placed both his hands gently on both Roger and John’s shoulders before he leaned down. “Try and not kill Paul at that farm, eh? Record your album, and get back to the city again. If you guys ever want to hang out again, Roger knows my number. Call me and we’ll figure something out.”

Roger and John both grinned and nodded, and Tim dropped his hands before waving goodbye to them. After they waved back, they focused on finishing their pints and noticed it was starting to get busier in the pub.

“I guess we should start heading back now,” John yawned.

Roger groaned. “But it’s so early still! One more pint, Deaky. Pleeeease?”

John chuckled and shook his head before he stood up and grabbed Roger’s hands to help him up too. “No more pints, love. Come on. It’ll be seven by the time we get back home. Let’s go catch a cab.”

Roger sighed heavily but let John pull him out and lead him outside where Tim was already gone back home as well. They hailed a cab and leaned on each other as it started to take them back to Ridge Farm.


	9. anger unleashed

**. . .**

  
It was exactly seven-thirty by the time Roger and John finally arrived back at Ridge Farm. They hurried inside as the rain beat down on them, and decided on some tea before they headed to bed.

Roger grabbed the cups after putting the kettle on and started to hum.

John smiled drunkenly at him before he giggling. “I still can’t believe you locked yourself in that cupboard until Freddie agreed to put the song on the album. You’re nothing if not determined.”

Roger faux scoffed and put the teabags in before he looked over at John from behind the counter. “Hey, the song was great! I couldn’t understand why him, and Brian didn’t want to put it on the album. It’ll be a classic, just wait, Deaky.”

John laughed and shook his head. “You wrote a song about making love to your car, that you don’t even own…”

“I owned a car before,” Roger playfully defended. “Anyway, it wasn’t about _making love_ to it, John, it was about how I loved it… and not even in a physical way either! You know what, I don’t have to defend it; it’s already going to be on side B, so… it’s done already.”

He wasn’t truly upset about how John felt about the song, but he still felt the need to defend his own music. He smiled lovingly at John to let him know this and the bassist smiled back. Roger poured them their tea and they went over to sit on the couch.

They sat close and giggled and sipped their tea sleepily when they saw Brian walk inside from the rain. He took his jacket off and chuckled when he saw Roger and John both trying to hold in more giggles.

“Are you two drunk?”

Roger put his index finger and thumb together before leaving an incremental space between. “A little. Wait, where the hell were _you_? I thought you were going to be here alone.”

“I didn’t really care very much to stay here so I decided to head to my sister’s and visit her for a while,” Brian made himself some tea with the still warm water and then sat down on the other side of Roger. “How was your date?”

Roger suddenly covered his hand nonchalantly to hide the cut on his hand from punching that bastard in the park earlier. “It was fine. We ran into Tim at the pub.”

The guitarist visibly tensed now, and he looked from John to Roger. “Oh yeah? Did he give you guy any trouble?”

“No,” John shook his head. “We hung out and had a couple pints together. He said he’s an animator or artist or something now, and he’s looking for commitment now so… that’s something new and different.”

Brian’s brows raised in surprised and he nodded, impressed. He took a sip of his tea. “Well, good for him.”

Roger glanced over at him. “How’s your sister, mate?”

“Oh, right. She’s well,” he nodded. “She actually just got out of a bad relationship with someone, and I wanted to make sure she was all right and safe. There’s too many shitty people in this world, Rog.”

The drummer gave a nod, knowing all too well about that. He knew Brian’s sister, though, and he couldn’t help but feel protective of her. She was so kind to him, and he felt like he wanted to bash the asshole’s face in that hurt her.

“Sorry, Bri.”

He gave a nod and a small smile before squeezing his shoulder. “I know you are, Rog. It’s all right.”

The three of them cuddled together on the couch, half watching the news that was on but mostly on the verge of falling asleep when they suddenly heard the loud shattering of glass against the wall, and then a shriek.

They quickly opened their eyes and looked around before standing up, setting their tea down on the table. Brian, being the most sober adult at the moment, led them to where he thought the sound came from.

Freddie’s door was open a crack, and Roger could see Freddie inside looking a bit afraid, but they heard Paul’s voice speaking first.

“He’s all you ever bloody talk about, Freddie! What about me? What about us? I love you! He doesn’t! Why are you so obsessed with John?”

Roger swallowed hard and looked over at the bassist to see him looking nervously back at him. Brian didn’t make a move to open the door, perhaps afraid of disrupting their argument.

“He’s my ex-boyfriend and one of my very best friends, Paul! Surely, you can understand that! I’m not… obsessed with him, though! I just simply would like to tell you certain things about him that I like, just so you understand how much he means to me, darling…”

Paul kicked the bedside table now. “Why don’t you just get back with him, then, if he means so bloody much to you, Fred!” He opened the door with such ferocity that he nearly crashed right into the three of them on the other side.

They all moved away from Paul and let him storm past them. Freddie wasn’t far behind though. He chased after Paul and grabbed his hand pleadingly.

“Please, Paul, darling… don’t leave me, I promise I won’t talk about him anymore! I swear it! Just stay, stay here with me and we can talk about things,” Freddie begged.

Paul grabbed his jacket and looked at Freddie. “All you want to do is talk, Freddie. How about a little more action, yeah?” He walked outside and headed towards the road.

Freddie had tears in his eyes now before he slammed the door, obviously having no intention of going out in the pouring rain. He let out a frustrated noise, and then walked back to his room before he knelt down in front of the glass on the floor.

John was holding Roger’s hand timidly, not liking having been the topic of their argument.

Brian looked down at Roger but glanced to John with soft eyes. “Go ahead and head to bed to bed, mates. I’ll help Freddie clean this up.”

A part of Roger wanted to protest, to offer to clean it up as well, but the truth was, he wasn’t in the right mindset to help. Maybe Brian wanted to talk to Freddie anyway, so he took John’s hand and led him to their room before he shut the door.

The two of them started to change into their pajamas, and when John looked out the window, he no longer saw Paul outside; he must have gotten a cab.

“What a fucking prick,” Roger declared softly. “I fucking hate Paul.”

John nodded in agreement and then the two of them crawled into bed. Roger put his arm around John as the younger man cuddled close to him, placing his ear to the drummer’s chest. “Why do you think Freddie was talking about me to Paul?”

There was an unasked question in there somewhere that probably was along the lines of: _do you think he misses me?_ but it remained unasked and unanswered.

Roger ran his fingers through John’s hair absentmindedly. “He was your first… and you two are still good friends, Deaky. Sometimes we just end up talking about each other because we’re always thinking about us, you know? Sometimes people just get dropped into conversations randomly, because something reminds us of them, I think. It can’t be helped.”

John nodded against him, sighing contently, his arm around Roger’s waist. “Yeah, probably. Do you ever talk about me to anyone? To Tim?”

Roger looked down at him and smiled to himself. “Only when I tell them I’ve found someone I love, that treats me well.”

John looked up at him and smiled softly. “Really?”

“Really, Deaks.”

The bassist blushed slightly and then he put his head back to where it was before. Roger still held him close, and soon felt him fall asleep, but he stayed awake for a bit longer to see if he could hear Brian talking with Freddie.

He couldn’t hear the guitarist, but he did hear Freddie crying, and it took a long time, but eventually, Roger ended up falling asleep as well.

  
**…………. …. …….**

**  
**The next morning, Roger woke up early and decided to head down to the kitchen to make coffee, but Freddie was already there.

He poured Roger a cup of coffee and placed it on the counter for him.

“Cheers,” Roger thanked him, taking a sip before searching the singer’s face. “How’re you doing, Fred?”

The singer gave a self-deprecating chuckle and shrugged before he took a drink of his own coffee. “I’m all right, dear. Thank you for asking, though. I know he’ll be back. Sometimes, Paul just gets into these… childish tiffs and he puts himself in time out for a bit, and then he comes back and we’re okay again.”

Roger felt his stomach sink as he heard Freddie defend him. “He does this a lot, though, Freddie,” he spoke knowingly, remembering all the slammed doors, broken items, and nights of crying. “You deserve better than him, mate.”

“No, I don’t,” Freddie suddenly said, a sad smile on his face as he shook his head. “I know I don’t. I lost John. Anyway, Paul and I have some good times together too… it’s not always this bad.”

“Do those good times involve cocaine and sex?”

Freddie wet his lips and then clenched his jaw. “You don’t know anything about us, Roger. Don’t even pretend to, darling. It just makes you look foolish.”

Roger couldn’t deny he felt hurt by his words, but he tried not to show it. “I’m just telling you facts, Freddie. The only time you two seem to get along is when there’s drugs involved, and then you two shag, and then you two end up fighting again when it’s all gone. I know _something_ about you two, and I know that he’s a complete prat that doesn’t deserve you.”

Freddie looked angry now, like he wanted to yell at him, but instead, he just walked out of the kitchen with his coffee and cigarettes.

Roger sighed and took out his own cigarette before lighting it and then sat down on the couch. A few minutes later, he heard footsteps, and then heard Brian’s voice.

“You two have a row?”

Roger exhaled the smoke before taking a small drink of coffee, glancing over at Brian. “I guess, yeah. It frustrates the hell out of me. This happens all the time, Brian! They get high, shag, write music, and then they get into a fight, and he breaks his fucking heart, always!”

“Shhh,” Brian chided, putting his index finger to his lips. “John’s still sleeping.”

“Sorry,” Roger apologized quietly, meaning it.

The older man sat down next to him. “I know it’s frustrating, mate. I’m right there with you… but Freddie needs to be the one to break up with him. We can’t break up with Paul for him, no matter what kind of prick he is. It has to ultimately be Freddie’s decision, and as long as he keeps accepting Paul when he comes crawling back to him to apologize, then I don’t see it happening any time soon, unfortunately.”

Roger nodded in acknowledgement, taking a long drag. He was quiet for a long time, starting to feel sadness creeping in again. “We need to finish this fucking album so we can leave. I want to be back in the city, away from Paul… away from Fred. I just want to be done.”

Brian looked down at him and then moved his body, so he was facing him. “I know. I want this album to be finished too, but we can’t do much without Freddie. He needs to record the rest of his songs, and we need to play them. He’s just… too preoccupied with Paul lately. Things will change though, soon.”

The blonde looked over at him and shook his head. “Nothing ever fucking changes, Bri. It doesn’t.”

“Roger…”

Roger stood up. “No, I’m sorry, but it doesn’t. Freddie never changes, and Paul never fucking changes, and this album is never going to get fucking finished at the rate we’re going right now!” He walked into the recording studio area and closed the door. The walls weren’t soundproof, but they were close.

He knew it would wake John up, but he wasn’t thinking about that right now. He was being selfish, and thinking about the anger that was bubbling inside of him, threatening to burst, like a dam.

He felt _so fucking angry_ and he didn’t know what to do with his rage.

They were never going to finish this album, ever. Not when Paul and Freddie had their own drama going on, not when Freddie couldn’t find the balls to just break up with the bastard, once and for all. He made sure not to hurt Brian or John’s instruments, but instead, circled on his own. He kicked the drumset, once, twice…

Then hit the cymbals hard with his hand, and then threw them away from him.

_He was never going get out of the fucking country._

_Freddie was never going to see that he deserved better._

_Paul was always going to be in their fucking lives._

“Roger!”

He ignored Brian’s voice from the door, and kept kicking his drum set until he put a hole through it. Then he grabbed his drumsticks and threw them so hard at the wall that it made an indent before the one stick broke in half.

“Roger! What’re you doing? Stop it!”

He felt Brian’s hand on his arm and he immediately ripped his arm out of his grip, only just realizing now that he was crying. He shoved Brian. “D-Don’t… don’t touch me! I can’t do this anymore! I fucking can’t.”

“Roger, it’ll be all right, mate…” the guitarist soothed, but Roger shook his head.

“Just get out of here!” He yelled at his ex-boyfriend. “I know I hurt you and I know I’m a fucking pain in the arse but I don’t want you here right now! I know I can’t do anything right, and that I fucked up when I was with you, and I’m sorry, Brian… I am, and now you’re alone and I can’t do anything about that!”

Brian blinked, taking this all in, shaking his head. “Roger, you can be a pain in the arse, but that doesn’t make you any less my family. I’m always going to care about you. Yes, I am alone, but… that doesn’t necessarily mean that I’m lonely,” he searched the drummer’s eyes just as John ran in, stopping behind Brian.

Roger was still crying and then threw his other drum stick at the wall angrily before watching that one break in half as well. He was pacing back and forth, unsure anymore if this was about Brian. To him, it felt like just everything.

John took a few steps over to him, but Brian put his hand on his chest gently, giving him cautious eyes. “John… maybe you should just give him some time. He might hurt you.”

Roger was taking shaky breaths, feeling the cigarette suddenly burn his hand, having forgotten he had still been holding it. He let it drop and then half knelt on the floor, leaning forward on his knees, listening to Brian and John’s conversation.

“He won’t hurt me. It’s okay,” John assured him, and then walked over to Roger before he knelt down in front of him.

“Hey, it’s just me,” the bassist spoke gently, placing a hand on Roger’s shoulder. He half expected the drummer to knock his hand off, but he didn’t. “Roger, listen to me, love… okay? I know this whole situation sucks, it does. It sucks for me too. You’re not alone in your frustration… we’re all feeling it. Let’s just… you and I get out of here, get out of the country for a few days. We can spend it in the city, yeah? Maybe stay at Tim’s. We don’t need to be here, not right now. Anything else that needs recording, Freddie can just record his parts, and then when him and Paul aren’t around, we can do the rest. We can just add it in later, right?”

Roger looked up at him now, searching his eyes. He hadn’t thought about, but it was a possibility. He ran his hands through his hair and nodded. “O-Okay…”

“Good. Now, take a deep breath, okay? Then let it out, and do that several times. Can you do that for me, Rog?”

Roger hiccupped back a sob and nodded, taking a deep breath, and then exhaling. His hands had stopped shaking after the fourth inhale/exhale, and he wasn’t feeling so lightheaded anymore. He reached out and touched John’s arms, needing to feel that he was actually there with him.

He glanced over at Brian, afraid of what he might see, but to his surprise, the guitarist gave him a small smile and nodded encouragingly. He was still hanging back though, wanting to give them some privacy.

Maybe he felt like John could help Roger better than he could right now.

The drummer inhaled and exhaled a few more times, catching his breath finally, and felt John gently caressing his back.

“I-I destroyed my drums,” Roger complained, grimacing.

John chuckled softly. “Don’t worry, we can replace it. You picked a good time to destroy it, though, Rog. At least now we actually have some decent cash flow to replace that and your sticks.”

This made Roger chuckle weakly and he wiped his face. “When can we leave?”

“Come on, love. We can start packing some things up right now,” John helped him back up to his feet and started walking him towards the door.

Roger looked at Brian with sad eyes. “I’m sorry… a-about this…”

Brian wrapped his arms around Roger in a hug. “Don’t worry about it, Rog. Just get away from here for a while, get the fog out of your head, be with John. I’ll take care of Freddie.”

Roger felt like crying all over again; he had felt guilty about all of it, and Brian seemed to know. “Thanks, Bri.”

The guitarist released him and gave a nod. “No worries, Roger. Go on.”

Roger followed John back to their room, and he sat on the bed as the younger man started to pack their clothes. He wasn’t sure what to do with himself, so he stayed there, looking out the window.

John glanced over at him and gave him a loving smile. “Can you call Tim, and ask if it’s all right if we stay with him for the week?”

“You know he’s going to say yes,” Roger shrugged. “Let’s just go there.”

John chuckled, stuffing Roger’s medication into the bag as well. “We can’t just drop in on him. You know that it’ll be fine with him. What if his roommate’s back and he doesn’t want two strangers sleeping there? Please, Rog? Just call and ask.”

Roger sighed but nodded and grabbed the phone in their room, dialing Tim’s number.

_“Hello?”_

“Hey, Tim. Would it be all right if John and I stayed with you for the week?”

_“Seems like just yesterday when we last talked, doesn’t it? Yeah, that would be all right. My roommate’s basically living with his girlfriend anyway now. Is everything okay, Rog? You sound distant. Do you need me to pick you guys up from anywhere?”_

Tim’s concern was almost overwhelming for Roger; it took everything he had not to cry. “N-No, we don’t need to be picked up, but… thanks. We’ll be over in a bit, probably by lunchtime.”

“Sure, oh, I’ll be at work, but there’s a key under the mat. You mates can let yourselves in, all right?”

Roger hadn’t realized how early it still was right now. Tim was probably just getting ready to go to work. “Okay, thanks again,” he hung up and glanced over at John. “He said it’s fine. I told you!”

John chuckled. “Well, it might not be fine to drop in on him every time! He has a life too, you know. One of these days, we’re going to drop in on him without calling first, and he’ll be shagging some woman.”

Roger gave a weak laugh, involuntarily remembering how Tim had left him at the hospital to have sex with someone at home. It was a bitter memory now, but the sting was gradually going out of it over time. He saw Paul walking up the drive and he cringed to himself.

“Paul’s back,” he replied softly, dread in his voice.

“That’s all right,” John declared, grabbing his hand, and helping him up. “We’re on our way out.”


	10. stranger from the past

**. . .**

**  
**  
Roger felt embarrassed as he thought about his behavior in the recording studio earlier, but he was just glad to finally be on Tim Staffell’s doorstep now.

John grabbed the key from under the mat and let them inside the flat. Roger remembered when he had been here before, and was starting to feel like this was a second home for him by now. He looked around; there were filled ashtrays in the living room, some cigarettes, some joints, but he noticed that there were extra blankets and pillows on the couch now.

Tim must have given them those before he had gone to work.

“The couch pulls out, but I think the two of us can fit on it well enough,” Roger told John.

John gave him a smile and then closed the door behind them before he started to look around. “It’s not a bad place. Where did he say his flatmate was?”

Roger set down their bags on the floor beside the couch and then felt the need to tidy up a little, as a way of thanking Tim for letting them crash there, but he also suspected it was his depression creeping in, trying to make him feel worthy of being here.

“He said that he’s basically living with his girlfriend, I think,” Roger grabbed the full ashtrays and walked into the kitchen, dumping the contents into the trash bin before walking back in and placing them back on the living room coffee table.

John watched him do this and wet his lips. “You don’t have to do that, you know, Rog. It’s Tim’s place, not yours.”

“I know,” Roger nodded before he shrugged. “I just felt like helping out.”

John gave him a loving smile. “All right, love. Would you like some tea?” He glanced at the drummer who nodded, and then headed into the kitchen, putting the kettle on and grabbed two cups out of the cupboard. “I feel odd being here,” he chuckled.

Roger tensed a little as he took out a cigarette and placed it between his lips, lighting it. “How come?”

John shrugged, running a hand through his hair before he looked over at Roger and leaned against the counter. “I just feel like we’re intruding here. He didn’t exactly invite us. We sort of invited ourselves over here, didn’t we?”

Roger took another drag of his cigarette. “He said it was no problem, and it sounded like he meant it. To me, at least, it sounded like he meant it. He’s not the type of bloke to beat around the bush, you know, Deaky? He says what he means. Anyway, you can go back to the farm if you don’t want to be here with me… I basically dragged you here.”

John raised his brows now and searched Roger’s face. “Do you not want me here with you?” He asked apprehensively.

Roger exhaled sharply before he watched him in the kitchen. “No, no. I mean, of course I want you here with me, John. I do, I swear, I just… I wanted to give you an out in case you didn’t want to be here anymore.”

The bassist shut the fire under the kettle off as soon as it started screaming. He poured the hot water into the cups and walked over to where Roger sat on the couch. “You can shut your pretty mouth of yours now, Rog. If I didn’t want to be here with you, I’d have stayed at the farm, yeah? Don’t worry about it. I want to be here with you because I love you.”

Roger nodded and took a sip of his tea. “I just thought maybe you were just afraid of leaving me here alone. Maybe you wouldn’t want to go back unless I were to come back with you.”

John leaned in and then kissed Roger’s lips with his own before he looked up into his eyes. “If I wanted to go back to the farm, then I would try and get you to come with me,” he stated softly. “I wouldn’t want to go alone, and I wouldn’t just leave you here by yourself. I know it’s not your fault, but this is your anxiety making you feel this way, right? It’s just your anxiety.”

Roger nodded, knowing that John was right. He gave him a weak smile. “I know.”

The two of them sipped their tea and Roger smoked his cigarette before he lit up another one. They put on the television, sitting together when he there was a knock at the door.

John looked over at Roger, who was looking slightly nervous, but stood up anyway as he made his way towards the front door. He slowly opened it and looked at a man who was slightly taller than him, leaning against the door.

“Can I help you?” Roger asked him politely, although something about this man gave off a vibe that made the drummer already not like him very much.

“Oh, is Tim in? I need to have a talk with him,” the man inquired, leaning in.

His tone of voice sounded unhappy, and Roger could smell alcohol on his breath now that he was closer. “He’s at work. I can tell him you stopped by, though. What’s your name?”

“Colin,” the other man answered, eyeing Roger up and down. “Hey, I know you… you’re a drummer, right, in that band Queen… Roger Taylor, yeah? Yeah… Tim’s told us about you.”

“Right,” Roger cleared his throat, eager to get rid of this man now. “I’ll let Tim know you came around.” He shut the door quickly now, locking it, just in case. He walked over to John who was standing now, watching him curiously.

“You all right?” John asked worriedly. “Who was it at the door, then?”

Roger shook his head, taking another drag of his cigarette as he sat back down. “Some wanker named Colin. He said he needed to talk with Tim, and he didn’t look very happy. He was plastered as well.”

John was looking uneasy now and he searched Roger’s face. “Do you think Tim’s got himself into trouble?”

Roger shrugged. It was something he didn’t want to think about. He was sure that the former bassist had changed, for the better. He had done some not so savory things in the past, on top of his raging homophobia; these things including betting, gambling, drinking too much, stealing.

Was he still doing those things? If he was, then maybe it wasn’t a great idea to stay here. If Tim was in trouble with people, then Roger wanted to be far away from him.

“I don’t know. Maybe,” he chewed on his bottom lip. “We’ll ask him about it when he comes home.”

John nodded. The two of them lay on the couch together, laying opposite from each other, with their legs over the other man’s. They had been taking a nap together for a few hours when they heard the door again.

Roger got up and watched as the door moved when someone on the other side tried to open it by turning the knob. Then, he watched them unlock it before they pushed it all the way open. Roger and John were met with Tim putting his key on the nearby desk now, looking over at them.

“Hey, all right?” He asked them, turning to look at them. Roger looked over at John, who looked back over at Roger pointedly. “What is it, mates? What happened?”

Roger searched his face, trying not to let himself jump to conclusions before he knew the truth. “Some bloke knocked on the door earlier, asking for you, Tim. He said his name was Colin.”

Recognition came across his face now and he nodded. “That would be our drummer,” he lit a cigarette and took off his jacket. “Did he say what he wanted?”

“He just said he wanted to talk to you,” Roger shrugged. “And he was piss drunk.”

Tim looked shaken, but not very surprised. He ran a hand through his head and nodded, taking a drag from his cigarette. He walked into the kitchen and heated up the kettle again, grabbing a mug for himself.

“Are you two not getting on, then?” John asked him, turning to face him.

Tim was looking nervous. “We’ve been having our differences more lately,” he replied. “He doesn’t like that I’ve been making him look bad in public when he puts down homosexuals, yeah? He told me before that I’ve been embarrassing him, and he told me that if I continue to do so, then… he’ll up and quit. He doesn’t think we’re going to go anywhere anyway, so he says it’s no great loss for him.”

Roger tensed a bit and shook his head. “If you want my opinion, mate, Colin sounds like a fucking tosser.”

Tim eased a little and chuckled, nodding. “He is. I’m not going to quit calling him out when he does it because… it’s fucking wrong, and band or not, I feel better calling him out than not. I don’t care if he quits the band, you know? I just don’t, I’m sick of his shit. I don’t want to put up with him anymore.”

John smiled encouragingly and searched his friend’s eyes, seeing something behind them. “So what’s going on? Why do you seem like you don’t want to do it?”

Roger glanced from John to look at Tim, who indeed, seemed on edge.

Tim poured the hot water into his tea mug before he walked over to the two of them and sat down in an armchair, taking another drag from his cigarette before he sighed. He took a deep breath before he coughed a little. “I owe him money… it was money for our first record we put out, and it didn’t do as well as we hoped. It cost more than we made from it, and now he wants me to pay that money back.”

John and Roger both sat down on the couch upon hearing this. John leaned forward and looked at Tim. “How much do you owe him? I mean, how much did it cost to record?”

“I owe him about €6,000,” Tim answered solemnly, taking a last drag from his cigarette before he put it out in a nearby ashtray. “I know that’s probably not very much for you guys now. That was the cheapest studio we could find, and… between paying rent, and groceries, I don’t have that much money right now,”

John and Roger looked at each other, both of them quiet for a long time. Tim was right; that had been a lot of money when they had recorded their first album as Smile together, but now that they were becoming popular, that was almost a drop in the bucket for them. They knew that Tim wouldn’t be able to pay this guy back, though, no matter how much he saved up and worked.

“Sorry,” chuckled nervously now, shaking his head. “I didn’t mean to go on a tangent like that or anything. I was just explaining the situation. I’m not asking for anything. Anyway, enjoy yourselves, make yourselves at home, mates. I’m going to head to bed.”

Tim stood up and bid them goodnight before disappearing into his room with his tea.

Roger looked over at John and brought his voice down. “We have to help him, Deaky…”

John gave him a weak smile and shook his head. “I don’t think we can, Rog. We need Brian to sign off on taking the money out of the band’s account, and… I know he’s going to say we shouldn’t throw it away.”

“It’s not throwing it away,” Roger insisted in a hushed whisper now. “We’re giving it to a friend who needs it!”

John wrapped his arm around the drummer. “I know you want to help him, that’s one of the things I love about you, but… we need to at least discuss it with Brian before we tell him we’re able to do it. It’s not that much money for us, but… it’s still enough. It’ll be a band decision to give it to him.”

Roger deflated. “A band decision?” He scoffed. “You’re going to talk it over with Paul and Freddie then as well? You know what they’ll say already. I don’t think Freddie’s even forgiven Tim for how he was before.”

John kissed Roger’s temple. “I know. We might not have to talk about it with Fred. Let’s just… tell Brian the situation first, and see what he says.”

Roger nodded, but didn’t hold out much hope. Brian was probably the most adult of them all, so of course he was going to keep a clear head about the situation. Roger already felt like he knew what the guitarist was going to say.

_We should stay out of Tim’s business. We should’ve involve ourselves in whatever he’s doing._

Roger took a sip of his tea, that had grown lukewarm now. He knew if Freddie ever found out that they took out money without him having been aware, that there would hell to pay.

“It’s late, Rog. We should head to bed,” John changed the subject. “Don’t forget your meds. They’ll help you sleep.”

Roger nodded and walked over to the bag they had taken from the house and took out his anxiety meds. He took one out and swallowed it with his tea before he set the cup down and made himself comfortable on the couch.

“Don’t fancy sleeping in his roommate’s bed again?” John made himself comfortable on the opposite side of the couch.

“The bed was fine, but… it just felt weird,” he shrugged. “I hate sleeping in foreign beds.”

John gave him a small smile and nodded. “I know. It’s all right. We can sleep out here; I don’t mind. I just want you to be comfortable, Roger.”

The drummer smiled back at him. “I love you, John.”

“I love you too, Rog.”

**………….. …. ………..**

****  
  


Roger woke up early the next morning, hearing Tim in the kitchen, already dressed, as he got ready for work. He glanced over at John, who seemed to be deeply sleeping. He got up from the couch, careful not to disturb the young bassist, and walked over to Tim who was currently sipping coffee and eating some toast.

“Sorry, mate,” he whispered softly. “I didn’t mean to wake you. I was trying to be quiet.”

Roger shook his head dismissively and decided to pour himself some coffee, feeling a bit nauseous. “It’s all right. I wasn’t feeling great anyway. It’s these pills Brian got for me, from my therapist. I haven’t taken them regularly or anything, so… I feel nauseous sometimes when I do take them.”

“What are they for?” Tim took another bite from his toast.

“Anxiety,” he explained. “Insomnia. They help me sleep so I’m not walking the house at night anymore.”

“Do they help you?” Tim asked curiously, searching Roger’s face.

Roger gave a shrug. “I guess. I mean… I haven’t had any blackouts for awhile now, and my anxiety is what usually causes it. I suppose they do help when I actually remember to take them.”

Tim nodded, giving him a warm smile. “That’s great, Rog, really. Keep taking them, mate. If they’re helping you, then… give them a chance.”

“I wish we could help you,” Roger blurted out. He looked at the other man guiltily.

Tim shook his head and waved it off. “No, it’s fine, Rog. I don’t want you to go to any trouble. I sort of made my own bed by borrowing the money from him to make the record, but I did it because I didn’t think we’d ever actually get a record made at all if I didn’t do something about it, you know? He’s not really one to take initiative, if you get my meaning, so I had to be in charge of everything.”

“I can’t believe he’s making you pay him back, though. I’d just tell him to piss off,” Roger took a drink of his coffee.

Tim chuckled gently. “You’re a better man than me. We only sold about thirty records total, and we haven’t sold anymore since, so… he basically lost a lot of money on it. I feel like just… just putting ourselves out there, though, was worth it enough to me. I feel like it would’ve been worse if we hadn’t tried at all.”

Roger nodded in understanding. “I still wish we could do something for you.”

“I know,” Tim nodded sympathetically. “You really are a good man, Roger. I didn’t tell you that story last night to make you feel obligated to help me, though. You know that, right?”

Roger nodded, searching Tim’s face. Maybe in a past life, he would’ve tried to manipulate them like that, but he knew those days were over; he could see it in his eyes, written on his face, that he wasn’t that kind of person anymore.

“I know.”

“Good,” Tim finished his toast and glanced at the clock before looking back at Roger and took his cigarettes out of his pocket before lighting one. “Don’t worry about me, mate. Really… I’ll find a way to pay him back.”

Roger nodded, even though he wasn’t all that assured. His stomach was in knots thinking what This guy Colin might do to Tim if he didn’t pay him back. Tim was his friend, damn near his brother, and he truly wished that he could do something for him.

They had the money. It wouldn’t even be that difficult. It’s not like it would be a great loss for the band, either. It was just a matter of convincing Brian.

“Do you have any days off of work this week? I thought it’d cool to hang out, the three of us, I mean, before we had back.”

Tim took a drag of his cigarette before he walked over to his calendar to check his work schedule. “I have off tomorrow and Friday, so whichever day you guys want. Did you have anything particular in mind, Rog?”

The drummer shrugged, taking another sip. “Maybe we can see a show or something? Have a few drinks?”

Tim searched Roger’s face a bit hesitantly now, and Roger just _knew_ that he was thinking about the last time they had gone out together and the drummer had been locked inside a club. He nodded anyway, though.

“Sure,” he agreed. “And this time, I promise John and I will make sure you come home with us.”

Roger gave a soft chuckle, nodding. He could still see a scar above Tim’s left brow from when they had gotten into the fight, or rather, from when Roger had blacked out and had hit Tim’s attacker.

“Sounds good.”

Tim smirked and took another drag. “Shit, I have to get going now, mate. I’ll see you two later, yeah?”

“Yeah, sure. Oh, is it all right if we order some take-out tonight for dinner? On us?” Roger offered. That was the least they could do for Tim right now.

Tim set his coffee down and grabbed his jacket. “Sure, get whatever. I’ll reheat it when I get home. Cheers, Rog.”

Roger watched him quietly close the door behind him as he left for work, and then the drummer headed for the bathroom to shower before John woke up. He washed up and got dressed before curiosity got the better of him, and he snuck into Tim’s room.

He knew he shouldn’t be here. It was an invasion of privacy, and the two of them trusted each other more now more than they had ever done before in their friendship. Roger wasn’t about to ruin that, but he felt like he needed to know more about the new Tim, to see if he really had changed at all.

Roger started to walk around Tim’s bedroom, taking in everything he could. There was a package of unopened cigarettes on the dresser; Tim apparently tried to plan ahead with his nicotine addiction. Roger couldn’t fault him for that, though. He did it as well.

Clothes lay strewn about on the floor and in the hamper. The shades were only partially drawn, so it was dim, but Roger could still see rolled joints resting on one side of the bed on the bedside table. He moved over closer and sat down.

There was a picture of Tim and a younger woman lying face up. He wondered if he recognized her, but he didn’t. He flipped the picture over and read the writing on the back:

_Tim, stay out of trouble. I’m here if you need me, though. -Jules_

That sounded like it could be either a sister or a girlfriend, or maybe just a friend turned one-night stand. Roger honestly didn’t really care either way, so he put the picture back as it was, and then opened the bedside table drawer.

More pot, lighters, keys, various phone numbers, a tube of lube, condoms…until something else caught his eye.

He picked up one of the pieces of paper from inside, and read the name above the number: Liam.

_No, that couldn’t be… his Liam, could it?_

Roger felt sick. Liam was a common name, though, right? There was a good chance it wasn’t him at all. If it was the Liam Roger knew, though, what the hell was Tim doing with number? Were they hanging out? Were they best friends?

He didn’t even know, but maybe it wasn’t what Roger thought it was. Maybe it was just Tim looking to get hooked up with more joints or something.

Roger hoped that was all it was.

He put the piece of paper with Liam’s name on it back, and closed the drawer before looking around and making sure nothing was out of place. He quietly slipped back out and turned around to see John standing there, looking at him expectantly.

“Did you get lost?”

Roger sighed, knowing he was busted. “I was just curious what his room looked like.”

John smirked and shook his head. “Was it everything you hoped for?” He led them into the kitchen so he could pour himself some coffee. “I woke up and you were gone. I thought the worst.”

Roger chuckled. “What, did you think I blacked out and got locked in somewhere again?”

John shrugged and glanced over at him. “I don’t know, Roger. Maybe! Did you find anything interesting in his room, not that I condone that type of snoopy behavior or anything.”

Roger leaned against the counter and folded his arms across his chest, looking down, shrugging. “No, not really.”

It was a pathetic lie, he knew, but Roger didn’t really see any reason to hide what he found from John. John knew about Liam, and he knew everything that Liam had done to him, emotionally, physically, mentally.

John walked over to Roger and placed his hands on the drummer’s waist before looking up at him. “Rog? Talk to me, love. What did you find in there?”

Roger swallowed hard, finally forcing himself to meet John’s eyes. “He had a drawer filled with a bunch of peoples’ names and numbers, and… Liam was on one of the slips of paper.”

John relaxed slightly, but only slightly. “That doesn’t mean anything, Roger,” he stated gently, dictating his thoughts from earlier.

“I know,” Roger nodded. “But… it could also mean a lot, Deaky. What if they’re hanging out together? What if… they’re planning something, I don’t know, something to do with me? Liam and I didn’t really leave things on a good note. What if he’s trying to get revenge or something?”

“Revenge?” John asked skeptically. “Listen to yourself, Rog… I know that you guys had a rough ending with each other, but I don’t think he’s that vindictive enough to plan something with Tim to hurt you. I love you, but I think you’re reading too much into this. It’s just a name and a number.”

Roger got an idea now, just then. He hurried towards Tim’s bedroom.

“Rog? Roger, where are you going?”

The drummer took out the piece of paper with Liam’s name on it and then walked back out over to the telephone. “I’m going to try calling him.”

John’s eyes widened now. “What? No… Roger, come on…”

“It’s all right, John. I’m not going to say anything,” Roger promised, starting to dial the number. “I’m going to hang up as soon as he answers. No harm done.”

John sighed heavily, obviously not feeling very good about this idea. “Fine, but hang up as soon as they answer, Rog. Don’t even say anything, all right?”

“I won’t!” Roger insisted, and then listened as it rang.

Once.

Twice.

Then:

_“Hello?”_

Roger felt his heart explode inside his chest painfully, his stomach swallowed itself as nausea took over. He instantly slammed the receiver down and raced for the bathroom before he dropped to his knees in front of the toilet and suddenly emptied his stomach.

John raced over to him and knelt down, rubbing his back. “Are you all right, Rog? What happened?”

“I-It was him,” Roger whimpered into the toilet before he wiped his mouth and flushed the toilet. He sunk against the wall now and looked over at John with lost eyes. “It was fucking Liam.”


	11. unexpected confessions

**. . .**

  
“It still doesn’t mean anything, love.”

Roger splashed cold water on his face, leaning over the sink now before he turned around to look at John in disbelief. “You’re joking! It means that Tim’s back to his dirty fucking tricks, isn’t he? What the hell’s he doing chatting with Liam?”

John got up off the floor and shrugged. “He could just be buying some weed off him, Rog. Maybe… maybe this world isn’t as large as you think, and he was friends with him from before.”

The drummer ran his hands through his hair, feeling anger stretching out his skin and making anxiety settle in his chest, ready to burst right out of it any second. He took a deep breath, telling himself internally that he needed to be patient with the man he loves more than anything.

“All right, John… maybe, but honestly, what would be the odds? What are the odds that Tim has Liam’s number in his drawer, of all the tossers that he could buy drugs off of, and it’s him?” Roger gave a skeptical shake of his head, scoffing quietly. “Come on, Deaky… that can’t be a coincidence, can it?”

John gave a heavy sigh and bit his lip, unsure what to think. He crossed his arms in front of his chest and shrugged again, shaking his head helplessly. “Honestly, Roger… I don’t know. I just don’t, but Tim’s treated us with nothing but respect for awhile now, and he hasn’t given us a reason not to trust him recently. I think we should hear his explanation for it before we jump to conclusions.”

Roger wanted nothing more right now than to jump on Tim and punch him until he couldn’t tell which way was up. He rubbed his eyes and then gave a groan of anguish and frustration before he nodded weakly.

He knew that John was right, as much as it pained him to admit it. Roger knew what the right thing to do was, but he wasn’t sure how much longer he would last after he confronted Tim about it.

“All right, John,” Roger finally conceded before he looked over at the younger man.

John gave a nod and moved closer to the drummer before he kissed Roger’s lips lovingly. “It’ll be all right. We’ll get things sorted out, yeah?”

Roger nodded.

The two of them left the bathroom and spent the day mostly watching television and listening to music on the radio until they heard the phone ring.

John looked over at Roger, as if to silently question who it could be, _what if it was Liam calling back?_ Roger jumped up and picked up the phone.

“Staffell residence,” he greeted, just in case it was someone for Tim.

“ _Roger,”_ came a familiar voice. _“How are you?”_

“ _Brian_ ,” Roger mouthed to John, who had been looking at him curiously. “Hey, Bri.. All right?”

Brian sighed on the other end, which told Roger that things were still chaotic and awkward back at the farm. _“Yeah, all right, I suppose. You know, the usual. You sound… off, though, Rog. Are you sure you’re all right?”_

Damn Brian for knowing Roger better than he knew himself.

Roger swallowed hard, deciding not to answer his question because honestly he had no fucking idea if he was even all right at all. “How’d you know where we would be, Brian?”

There was a weak chuckle on the other end. “ _He seems to be your go-to whenever things go pear shaped with any of us. I’m not judging, I’m just… stating facts. Anyway, you’re avoiding my question, so tell me, Rog… what’s going on over there?”_

Roger looked over at John, who was watching him with soft eyes, his brows furrowed as he tried to guess what Brian was saying to him on the other end. The blonde sighed again. “It’s fine here, Brian. No worries.”

“ _Why are you lying to me?”_ There was hurt in his voice.

Roger rubbed his temple before he suddenly couldn’t take all his questions anymore. “Because I don’t have to tell you anything anymore, Bri. We’re not together, and I don’t have to tell you every single thing that happens to me anymore.”

He hadn’t meant for it to come out like that, but it had, and now he wished that he could take his words back.

Brian was silent for a few moments, surprised by Roger’s comments. Finally, he spoke again. _“You’re right, Roger. I just… I still care about you, both of you, and… if something is happening, I want to know so I can help you both out. That’s all. I’m not trying to be nosy.”_

“I know,” Roger replied in a calmer voice now. “I just… don’t have everything figured out yet, and I’m on fucking edge right now. When I have all the facts, I’ll tell you about it.”

“ _All right, mate,”_ Brian accepted with finality in his voice. “ _I’ll let you go, then. Whatever’s going on, Rog, just know that I’m here for you and John, yeah? Don’t be afraid to call if you need help. I’m here.”_

Roger almost felt like crying. He treated Brian like shit, and now the older man was offering his help with no strings attached. “All right. Thanks, Bri. We appreciate it, but… we’re okay for now, I think.”

_“Okay, Roger. Then… I’ll let you go.”_

Roger didn’t bother to say goodbye before he hung up the phone, wanting to avoid any more awkwardness than he had already endured. He glanced at the clock, knowing that Tim would be home any time now.

“What did Brian say?” John asked, looking up at him.

“Hm? Oh, he was just… offering to help us,” Roger shrugged. “I don’t want to involve him in this if we don’t have to, you know?”

John gave a small smile and nodded. “I know. I would prefer not to involve him in this either. Do you want me to be out here with you when you confront him about Liam, or… do you want me to give you two some privacy?”

Roger tensed a little. “Can you stay out here with us? Maybe… just… hang back unless something happens?”

John didn’t need to ask if what happens. He nodded knowingly.

_In case I lose it._

“Thanks, Deaks,” Roger searched the bassist’s face before smiling at him gratefully.

John opened his mouth to say something, but it was at that moment when Tim walked in. He hung his jacket up and dumped his keys in the bowl before he sighed tiredly, taking his shoes off.

He turned around to give a polite nod to John and Roger and smiled at them kindly. Roger felt a heaviness in his gut; for some reason, Tim’s kindness made confronting him ten times more difficult.

Neither man returned the polite gesture, and Tim stopped walking towards his room and turned to look at them in concern. “Everything all right, mates? Did Colin come back?”

His genuine worry made Roger feel sick all over again. _Fuck, he didn’t want to do this._

John looked at Roger, waiting for him to say something. He wanted to stick to their earlier decision about not inserting himself until Roger needed him.

When Roger still didn’t answer Tim, it made the other man walk closer to Roger nervously. “Hey, are you all right, Rog? Talk to me, mate. What’s going on?”

_He had to do this. Right now._

He thought back to the discovery in Tim’s room, and the thought of Tim conspiring with Liam made Roger irrationally angry again. “I… found Liam’s number in your bedside table drawer earlier,” he confessed, forcing himself to meet Tim’s eyes and stay there.

Confusion touched Tim’s eyes at first, and he searched Roger’s face, waiting for him to continue to explain. When he didn’t, it made the other man tense up.

“Liam… do you even know who he is, Rog?” Then, as if he realized how mean that sounded, he spoke again. “I mean, there’s loads of Liams. Are you sure it’s the same one you know?”

Roger sighed and took a deep breath. “I called him, because… I had to know for sure.” He knew that Tim didn’t know the entire story about what had happened with himself and Liam at the college, but he did know that things had gotten violent with Liam at one point.

Tim chewed on his bottom lip, but he was still looking at the drummer. “All right, so… what is it you want to ask me about him?” His question wasn’t said unkindly.

Roger tried to swallow the anger that was boiling right under the surface, but he could feel his hands already beginning to tremble. “I want to fucking know if you two were always planning on hurting me again, or if you two only started recently.”

As soon as the words left his tongue, he felt ready to break Tim’s nose and his fury radiated within his chest and he found himself taking a threatening step towards him.

Tim put his hands up in a gesture of surrender but also held one of his hands out to Roger. “Wait, Roger… just wait. I know this looks fucking bad, right, but I had nothing to do with him before when he hurt you, and I’m not conspiring with him to hurt you now!”

Roger shoved him. “So what the hell are you even doing with his number in your drawer? Tell me, Tim!”

Tim was looking even more nervous now, but there was something else also in his eyes that Roger instantly recognized as shame. It took him by surprise, and he ran his hands through his hair anxiously, not understanding the situation still.

Something else flickered in Tim’s brown eyes now, _fear_ , and he glanced over at John for help. Roger also looked over at John, feeling more lost than ever now.

“What?” He demanded impatiently. “Answer me! Why do you have Liam’s number?!”

It was clear from looking at John that the bassist realized something, but shock touched his eyes now and he seemed at a loss for words. Roger looked back at Tim, who, realizing that John was of no use to either of them right now chose to look back at Roger again.

“I-I was… shagging him, all right?” His voice broke apart weakly near the end, and Tim looked more hesitant and fearful than Roger had ever seen him.

“What?” Roger shook his head, wondering if this was just another one of Tim’s lies. So many questions were soaring through his head, but he could only wrap his mind around one at a time. “How? You… you’re straight, you’ve said it yourself! I’ve seen you shag women, loads of them.”

He tried not to think about the night when Tim had left him at the hospital to come to sleep with his girlfriend.

Tim cringed now and looked unsure before he put his hand up sideways, palm down, and tilted it back and forth a few times. “I-I haven’t been so sure, lately. I mean, I know how I was before about…homosexuality and all that business, but… I don’t know! I don’t know. T-Things have been feeling different for me lately. I still sleep with women, but I’ve been feeling things for… for men lately as well, and I-I just don’t know anymore.”

Roger took a deep breath. “Why Liam? Why are you fucking the man who almost raped me, and beat the shit out of me? Why him? You could… have anyone else, so why pick the arsehole who hurt me?”

Tim was looking distressed, even on the verge of tears. Seeing him this way made it so hard for Roger to be properly raging towards him right now.

“Roger,” he sniffed now, “I knew a Liam hurt you, but… I swear to you, I never knew what he looked like. I didn’t know it was this one, and… it’s a common fucking name. I-I don’t know what to tell you… it sounds like a bunch of excuses, I know, but… it’s the truth. I didn’t know it was the same one who hurt you.”

Roger searched his face and saw tears in his eyes. He was telling the truth, he could tell. He knew what Tim looked like when he was lying, and this was not that. “Fuck…” he half whimpered.

Tim started towards his bedroom now, but not like he was storming off to end the conversation; he looked like he was a man on a mission. Roger quickly followed him and glanced behind him to see that John was following them as well, nodding encouragingly to Roger.

When they got to the bedroom, they saw Tim start rummaging through his drawer for the number and held it up to Roger.

“Just say the word, Rog, a-and I won’t see or talk to him again. I swear. I don’t anything to do with him now that I know that he was the one who messed with you, and hurt you.”

Roger swallowed hard, and he clenched his jaw. A part of him didn’t want to be the reason why Tim wouldn’t be able to explore his sexuality with this particular person, to figure out who he was. It had to have taken Tim a long time to be able to trust Liam enough to have sex with him. He couldn’t see him be willing to try it with another man unless he was desperate to find out answers.

He looked over at John unsurely.

John nodded encouragingly again to him. “Say what you feel, Rog,” he said gently.

“I-It’d be selfish of me if I told you not to see him again,” the drummer looked down at his hands, feeling partially ashamed.

Tim looked at Roger as he suddenly tore the paper into pieces and then walked into the bathroom and let the pieces drop into the toilet before he flushed Liam’s number away before he came out to where Roger and John were in the hallway now.

“There, it’s done. I meant it, Rog. I didn’t know that was the same one who attacked you. I don’t want to be with someone like that. I can’t trust him anymore knowing what he did to you.”

Roger felt overcome with emotion. The old Tim never would have done something like this. He roughly wiped his eyes now.

Tim moved closer to him and wrapped his arms around him carefully. “Come here, mate,” he felt Roger’s arms around him in a hug as well. “I’m so sorry, Rog. I didn’t know…”

“I know,” Roger said into his chest. After a few minutes, the two men finally separated, both of them sniffling.

John smiled at both of them, grateful that it hadn’t ended up the other way. This was probably the best case scenario they could’ve hoped for.

“All right, well… the search continues, I suppose,” Tim chuckled weakly. “I’ll run it by you first before things start to get serious,”

Roger chuckled now before nodding appreciatively. He had messed around with more than a few men, and he wondered what the likelihood would be of Tim hooking up with them as well.

“All right, troublemakers,” Tim started jokingly, wiping his face of stray tears, perhaps of the bittersweet ending of a potential lover. “If we’re all right now, I’m going to shove off to bed, I think.”

Roger nodded. “Goodnight,” he had other questions for Tim, but they could wait.

“Goodnight, Tim,” John waved to him.

Tim waved goodnight to both of them before he headed back into his room and closed the door quietly. John turned to Roger and searched his face.

“How’re you feeling?”

“Better,” Roger nodded honestly. “I really hadn’t expected him to… come out like that, though. Who would’ve thought? Tim, of all people?”

John chuckled, taking his hand, and leading him to the spare room. “Sort of makes sense. He spent all that time bullying others who were gay, and now it turns out that he has a bit of gay in him as well? It’s sort of karmic.”

Roger took out a cigarette and lit it before he started to get dressed into his pajamas. John started doing the same.

“I never thought I’d say it, but I think I feel bad for him.”

John glanced over at him from where he was changing into a clean shirt. “How come?”

Roger shrugged. “I don’t know. I remember feeling that confused and torn up about what I was, am. Sometimes I still don’t know what I am… I mean, I’m with you, and I’m attracted to you, John. Don’t get me wrong, but.. sometimes I still feel attracted to certain women still, you know? It’s confusing as hell, but especially for him. Imagine you always thought you were straight your whole life, and then you start feeling attracted to a bloke for the first time. That messes people up.”

“Did you think you were straight before when you just slept with women?” John asked him curiously, getting under the covers.

Roger shrugged and joined him shortly after. “I did at first, for a little bit, but… I think I’ve always been attracted to certain blokes, so… I think, deep down, I always knew that I liked both of them. What about you, John?”

John chuckled. “I’ve always swung towards blokes,” he admitted. “as long as I can remember. Had a girlfriend once, slept with her, but… it just confused me, I think. I was able to get through it, but I shouldn’t have to say that about sleeping with anyone.”

Roger chuckled, nodding in agreement as he took a drag from the cigarette. “Probably not. I was afraid I was going to blackout at any second earlier. I felt so angry about it.”

John stole Roger’s cigarette from him and took a drag from it as well before he looked over at him. “Good thing you didn’t. I’m glad it went smoothly. Do you think he was telling the truth about all of it? He’s lied to us before, hasn’t he?”

Roger glanced over at him and searched his face, shaking his head. “No, I know when he lies, and… he was telling the truth. I’ve never seen him like that before. He was shaken up, Deaky… he can act, but he’s a shitty liar.”

They passed the cigarette between them, sharing it, before Roger finally put it out when it got too low. John moved closer to Roger and rested his head on his chest.

Roger reached over for his pills on the bedside table before he placing the pill on the back of his tongue and grabbing the glass of water and swallowing it down. He relaxed again, wrapping his arms around John, kissing the top of his head.

“I wouldn’t have been able to do any of that earlier if you hadn’t been there. Thanks, John.”

John smiled to himself. “I’m always here for you, Rog.”

The drummer also smiled to himself, unbeknownst to John. He held him tighter and soon felt the pills take effect, making him feel drowsy. He exhaled contently, still feeling a tinge of guilt nestled inside his chest at the thought of Tim feeling so alone and confused.

“Goodnight, Roger. I love you.”

Roger ran his fingers through John’s hair softly. “I love you too, Deaks. Goodnight.”

**Author's Note:**

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